


The Ties That Bind

by ThatOneGuy419



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Children forced to grow up too quickly, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Good people doing bad things for the "right" reasons, marginally canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:48:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25762396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOneGuy419/pseuds/ThatOneGuy419
Summary: They chose to break the cycle. They chose to try and change the course of history. But to stand a chance against the dangers that lie ahead, they must first stand against their own doubts and fears.Monsters and beasts come in all shapes and sizes, but few hold a candle to the demons that dwell within.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 66





	1. The Prince of Lies

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, readers, and welcome to my story. I will warn you now, I'm a fan of darker takes on more lighthearted source material. I take the implications of what COULD happen in these worlds and run with them. Some canon aspects are disregarded, while *heavy* liberties are taken with others. That's just how I do things, so expect that out of this project and all future ones I decide to post.
> 
> Now some notes just for this story and how things will work here vs canon:
> 
> \- It was originally written alongside Season 1 of the show, back when there was virtually nothing to go on as far as canon lore. So gaps were filled in and plans were made well before the series continued, and before I knew anything about the novelization, which goes much deeper into the characters, setting and lore. I have since incorporated whatever I saw fit as the series went on, but there were plenty of things I saw no reason to change. So when you see things that don't match up, please consider that before pushing up your glasses and telling me which episode in which season proved me wrong.
> 
> \- Dark Magic will be more widespread and portrayed in a less "Dark=Evil" way. 
> 
> \- Alongside Dark Magic, technology is also a thing in this story. Not steampunk-level, but you'll at least see mentions of things like indoor plumbing, light bulbs, hydroelectric power, hydraulic and pneumatic machinery, steam-powered prototype weaponry, etc. 
> 
> \- Elves and dragons are pricks. Haughty, condescending and often unwilling to examine their own behavior or acknowledge their own roles in unfortunate events.
> 
> \- Viren didn't attend classes at the James Bond School of Villainy. 
> 
> \- Callum has a very different background here, and thus is a *very* different person. 
> 
> Everything else will be revealed and explored as the story goes on, just wanted to let you all know what to expect beforehand so you can decide if this is your cup of tea or not.
> 
> Enjoy.

Long ago, Xadia was a land rich in magic and wonder. In the old times, there were only the six Primal Sources: The Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the Earth, the Sky and the Ocean. Through Arcanums bestowed alongside the spark of life itself, all beings, from the greatest dragons to the smallest insects, were born with a connection to at least one of the Sources. All, except the humans.

Born without magic, into a world infused with it, humans led a harsh existence for centuries. Hunted by creatures undeterred by rocks and pointy sticks, often shunned and outright oppressed by other intelligent races, and forced to kill each other over resources just to barely eke out a living in small settlements.

Few were sympathetic. Even those who claimed to value all life were content to merely watch as an entire race floundered and dwindled. Fewer still examined their own role in the humans’ losing battle for life. Earthbloods forbid them from felling trees, caring not for their excuses of using them to make shelters for their families. The Tidebound chastised them for their cruel fishing methods, and even went as far as to cause floods to convince the more problematic humans that coastal settlements were more trouble than they were worth. Sunfire elves halted any attempts at mining they didn’t directly supervise, in the name of keeping the humans from scarring the landscape with their clumsy efforts. Moonshadows laid claim to the most game-rich lands, denying humans permission to hunt in their territories, and were not gentle about dissuading them from poaching. The dragons were no better.

Only one race, the unicorns, pitied them enough to intervene. Against the warnings of both elves and dragons, the unicorns chose those they deemed the wisest among the humans and gifted them with magic through Primal Stones, as well as the knowledge of how to use it. This gift was given under the condition that such power be wielded with respect and caution, and for a thousand years the humans kept their end of the bargain. In that time, they showed all of Xadia just how much they could accomplish when they were granted even a fraction of the advantages other races were born with.

Vast cities, magnificent works of art, fascinating contraptions and an entire system for understanding the natural world in non-magical ways. But it couldn’t last. Shaped by such dire beginnings, human nature ensured that there would be those who would never be content in life unless they were at the absolute peak. Some of these people possessed the will, prowess and cunning to become kings of men. But for a few, even a crown and a kingdom weren’t enough. They coveted the power of magic above all else, and fought wars over the Primal Stones, resulting in the destruction of all but two.

And so, in the face of untold casualties, devastated cities and the prospect of losing magic altogether, humans found an alternative. The Seventh Source: Dark Magic. Requiring parts of magical creatures to harvest their essence, it was seen as an abomination all across Xadia. But it wasn’t until the humans’ thirst for ever greater power caused them to turn on their original benefactors and hunt the unicorns into extinction, that the elves and dragons moved to put a stop to the madness.

Extermination was the goal. After the humans’ total betrayal, none dared speak out on their behalf to champion their right to live. Even so, the recently-crowned Dragon Queen began her reign with a show of benevolence not seen before or since, and chose banishment over eradication. Thus the human race was forced westward, out of Xadia, and the entire continent was divided in two.

However, what came to be known as the Merciful Compromise, was not all it appeared to be. The most powerful of the dark mages still met their ends which, though deserved, left the exiled humans to wander through the hostile and mostly uncharted western lands with little in the way of defense. Once again they were hunted by creatures unfazed by their weapons. Once again they were forced to fight and kill for resources. Once again they were beaten down by the world around them.

The difference was that this time they were unchained and unchecked. With no one to tell them what they couldn’t do, they tamed the land with ingenuity and brute force in equal measure. Forests were leveled to build towns. Rivers were diverted for farmland. Entire mountainsides were reduced to rubble for precious metals. Villages became towns, which became cities, then kingdoms, all without external interference.

But of course all has not been well in the time since the Merciful Compromise. For a thousand years, elves and dragons have looked to the west with worry and suspicion, knowing the Seventh Source lived on and waiting for the day Luna Tenebris’ kindness came back to haunt them. For a thousand years, humans have looked to the east with envy and fear, coveting Xadia’s magical power, while terrified of what would happen if that power was used on them.

However, after centuries of tension and countless revolutions of a seemingly endless cycle of fear and hate, a tipping point has been reached. The Dragon King, Avizandum, has had his three-hundred year reign cut short by dark magic, and his only heir slain while still in the egg.

Now the world stands on the brink of an all-out war that promises disastrous consequences for all.

* * *

Prince Callum never really considered himself a morning person, even after several years of being forced to wake up at the crack of dawn for whatever royal duties he needed to learn to fulfill. But this particular morning found him rising before the sun on his own, and in an even fouler mood than one would expect, all due to the chaos outside his window.

It was a thunderstorm the likes of which Katolis hadn’t seen in months, and it would definitely be a problem if it kept up. Sure, the people of the kingdom had gotten a few hours’ warning beforehand, but anti-flooding measures could only do so much against this kind of deluge. Anything close to a river was especially vulnerable, since most were probably already overflowing their banks. Not to mention damage done by wind and lightning strikes.

Nothing good would come from this storm. Beyond the normal tingles that ran throughout his whole body when a storm occurred, and the anxious energy that left him struggling just to sit still, this one felt...heavy. The dark clouds carried more than just rain and lightning; they brought ill omens with them.

Some would call the boy too superstitious, but like a hunter who knew something was wrong when the forest went silent, Callum had learned to heed the churning in his gut. More than that, he had also learned to fear it.

But maybe this one was different? Maybe it was just a storm and not some malevolent harbinger of things to come. Maybe he was just angry that it had robbed him of precious hours of sleep.

Since he knew trying to go back to bed was pointless, and he was too agitated to draw anything, Callum decided to peruse his old works and perhaps pick out something that deserved a do-over.

All was fine until he came across something that made his entire body lock up. To anyone else, it was just a relatively crude and slightly morbid doodle of a dragon roasting a humanoid figure made of marshmallows. Decent linework, but nothing noteworthy.

But for the young prince, it was a reminder of unbearable heat. Laying face-down on the floor, barely conscious and struggling to breathe from a combination of thick smoke and two cracked ribs. Feeling the tremors of a massive beast’s footsteps, getting stronger as it got closer. Hearing the sinister rumble of its voice, tauntingly calling out to him.

_“You cannot hide forever, little human. I WILL find you.”_

A bright flash from his window jolted the prince back to the present, followed by a crack of thunder that rattled the entire castle.

The prince heard a sharp gasp behind him and knew what would come next.

“Callum?!” he turned to regard the younger boy in the other room. Light brown skin just starting to show signs of sweat, poofy hair matted on the left side and bright blue eyes wide and darting around in panic before settling on him.

“It’s just a storm, Ez; nothing to be afraid of.” Callum said with a “reassuring” smile that, had he been closer, would’ve worried the younger prince even more. “Go back to sleep.”

“I-I wasn’t scared.” the younger brother stammered as he settled back into his bed. “Bait was scared.” he was practically pouting as he hugged his pet Glow Toad to him, drawing a grunt from the creature that almost sounded sarcastic.

Callum turned back to the drawing with a deep scowl and, after ensuring his brother wouldn’t be able to see, lifted it up to a nearby candle.

* * *

“Who are you and what have you done with Prince Callum?” Soren demanded jokingly as he watched said prince browse the wooden swords on the training weapons rack.

“Is it really so strange that I’m here on time, Soren?” Callum asked, picking up a light “sword” with a rather long blade but a very short handle clearly designed for one-handed use. ‘Nice weight, maneuverable…but I’ve got a feeling I’ll need something more versatile.’ he thought before putting it back on the rack.

“Considering I usually have to have someone hunt you down and physically drag you here for training? Yes, this is weird.” Soren replied, having to clench his jaw tight to hold back his laughter when the younger male put back the arming sword picked up a hand-and-a-half sword; a.k.a. a _bastard_ sword. ‘I know it’s mean, but that’s just funny!’

Callum looked around the courtyard and noticed that every guard in the area and even a few of the castle’s civilian residents were looking at him oddly. He had to admit that with how vocal he’d been about his dislike for weapons training in general, him showing up on time, on his own and without a single complaint wasn’t normal.

“Okay, fine, it’s weird,” Callum relented, “but it’s not like I’m suddenly looking forward to this. It’s just…I dunno, maybe I ate too many jelly tarts last night, but I’ve got all this _energy_ today! I need to burn it off before I start bouncing off the walls.”

“But that’s how you fight anyway.” Soren snorted, referring to the boy’s rather _unique_ high-mobility combat style.

“That was ONE time!” Callum protested, remembering one of Soren’s “scenario” spars meant to simulate encountering an enemy in the castle halls or otherwise less open spaces than the courtyard.

The knight had managed to back him all the way down the hall and corner him at the door to his and his brother’s own bedchamber, and Callum only had two options: escape or surrender. He chose the former and after a deft parry that he would never admit was entirely accidental, he’d turned, ran _up_ the door for two steps, then kicked off of it to flip over Soren’s head and land behind him. The blue-eyed Commander had been so stunned by the move, that by the time he remembered the fight was still on, he had the tip of a wooden sword at his throat.

“It was a _bunch_ of times.” Soren countered with a smirk. “Which is why we’re going to focus on the art of defense today!”

“But-“

“ _Defense_ , not evasion.”

“But why would I need to defend if you can’t hit me to begin with?” Callum asked, realizing how condescending his words sounded only after they left his mouth. “I meant-“

“There’s gonna come a time when you can’t rely on your flippy-dippy crap.” Soren said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Maybe you’ll be stuck in a tight spot with barely any room to swing a sword, let alone jump around like a cricket. Maybe you’ll be the only thing standing between Prince Ezran and an assassin, and you bouncing all over the place would only leave him open to attack.” the young man’s expression softened somewhat when he saw the impact bringing the younger prince into the conversation had. “Look, I understand where you’re coming from, okay? Yes, _generally speaking_ , being slippery as an eel would serve someone of your size and build much better than standing there, trying to block and parry. But sometimes your only option is to stand there and block and parry. And if such a situation ever comes up and you can’t do what you need to do, what happens?”

“…I’m dead.” Callum sighed.

“Super dead. Now, you ready?” Soren unsheathed his own wooden longsword; a weapon similar to Callum’s, but with both a longer blade and handle.

“As I’ll ever be.” the Prince replied, settling into one of his favorite stances, known as the Key Guard.

“I say ‘defense training’, and you take an offensive stance. Right.”

“It can be used defensively as well.”

“Not with the way you’re standing.” Soren said, nodding towards Callum’s legs. “You aren’t low enough and your feet aren’t planted. You’re in a position to move in any direction, when today’s training is all about _not moving_.”

“…Fine.” Callum glanced down to see if there was anything to mark his position, and immediately saw a cracked brick that looked sort of like a frowning face. ‘Defend the frowny face, got it.’ he thought as he hunkered down into a more solid stance. “Better?”

“Let’s see.” Soren opened with a one-handed rising cut.

Callum just barely reacted in time, thrusting his sword down and into the path of the other weapon. Feeling the shock run up through his arms, he was sure that Soren would’ve lifted him off his feet if he’d used both hands.

“Good. You don’t have the power or leverage to fully block my attack from that angle, so use your weight to stop the swing before I get full momentum.” then, with a flick of his wrist, Soren rotated his blade out from under Callum’s and went for a horizontal slash aimed at the boy’s head.

Callum answered with a Hanging Guard, but the unexpected power behind the attack nearly pushed his own sword back into his face.

“Your timing’s off.” Soren pointed out. “Again, you don’t have the strength to just take that hit, so you need to match your switch with my attack so your momentum can help cancel out mine. You also need to catch my blade closer to the base of yours, otherwise you turn your sword into a lever that lets me overpower you that much easier.”

Another flick of the wrist and Soren had his wooden blade coming around to the right sight of Callum’s face, which he blocked just like the first, though he’d timed it better and maintained a solid hold on his sword.

“Better, but…” quick as a blink Soren’s left hand shot up to grab the pommel of his longsword and pivoted it in his right for a descending vertical cut. Callum kept his guard, but was forced to drop his sword when his fingers were struck. “You’re still dead. Mind your crossguard; can’t hold a sword if your fingers get chopped off.”

“What if the attack goes through the crossguard?” Callum asked as he picked up his sword and tried to wiggle some feeling back into his fingers.

“Pfft, then it was a crappy crossguard.” Soren snickered. “But in all seriousness, you come up against someone or something that can cleave through a crossguard? It’s time for flippy-dippy, because you ain’t blocking that anyway.”

“Yeah, sounds about right.” Callum chuckled sheepishly before settling into a stance that had him facing his opponent, legs spread and sword pointed almost straight down: the Change Guard. “Ready.”

Soren regarded him with a skeptical look and took up a Wrath Guard with his sword resting on his right shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at the teenager, silently asking if he was sure about his current stance. When Callum didn’t respond, Soren attacked with a wildly telegraphed overhead strike.

Callum met the attack with his own rising cut, surprisingly with enough force to bounce Soren’s sword back, but halting his own sword dead. However that was part of the plan, as the knight used the momentum to spin the sword around for an undercut. Then, entirely on instinct he didn’t even know he had, Callum shifted slightly to the right to avoid the cut and lunged forward to strike the inside of Soren’s right elbow.

“Now you’re getting it!” Soren smiled as he backed up a few steps. “Defense only has to last until you see an opening or you make one. Or, y’know, until you die. Let’s see which comes first!” and with that he dashed forward in a two-handed Wrath.

Callum immediately brought his sword up in an Ox Guard, but misjudged his timing once again and already had his blade in position before Soren hit. The result was his right wrist giving way under the force of the blow. But instead of trying to resist it, he practically let the sword go limp in his hands. This caused Soren’s attack to glance off to the right and Callum was quick to move forward into his space and snap his own blade forward, stopping it a hair’s breadth away from his neck.

“Whoa!” the Commander froze, then eyed brown-haired youth suspiciously. “…Have you been practicing without me?”

“Not at all.” the elder Prince shook his head. ‘Well, not really.’ he may not have practiced physically, but there were plenty of times when he sat in the courtyard with his sketchbook, watching the kingdom’s warriors spar and go through their drills and exercises. With his eidetic memory it wasn’t hard to recall exactly the techniques he had seen, though putting most of them to use himself was easier said than done.

“Huh…Then I guess I’m just that good a teacher!” Soren laughed as he disengaged.

“I guess so!” Callum agreed unconvincingly, thankful that Soren was the type to overlook even the most obvious tells if his ego was being stroked.

“But you’ve still got a lot to learn, and since you were here on time for once we actually have another hour to spare!”

The day was proving itself to be full of oddities, as the Prince found that he didn’t balk at the very idea of spending another hour getting his backside handed to him by the Commander of the Crown Guard.

‘Am I…having fun?’ before he could dwell on the implications, Soren charged him, having mistaken his loose, bewildered stance as a Fool’s Guard.

Having no real alternatives, Callum used it as such, bringing the sword up and presenting the point to halt the knight’s advance. But Soren was quick to counter with a technique the prince remembered was known as the “Krumphau”. Mostly a defensive move, but it could be used aggressively as an offensive parry designed to displace the opponent’s weapon by batting it down and away while moving forward to get inside their space before they can respond.

Before he knew it, Callum found the tip of his sword in the dirt and could already see Soren crossing his arms back to carry the momentum into a vertical cut. He couldn’t avoid it and he couldn’t block it, so he went for the next best thing.

Just as Soren’s “blade” made contact with the step-prince’s left shoulder, the blond felt a firm tap on the back of his right knee. He smirked at the younger male and gave an appreciative nod before saying, “If all else fails…take ‘em with you.”

As he backed away, Callum noticed the gleam in Soren’s eyes…and for once it didn’t worry him.

What DID worry him was Soren adopting his own Key Guard.

Callum took up a Plow Guard to defend, but Soren started out using the extra reach of his weapon to a short, rapid thrust. Seeing only the point coming at him, the prince moved his blade to parry more on reflex than anything, falling for the feint. Soren pulled the thrust back just as quickly and, once Callum’s sword was out of line, he stabbed forward with a full attack, jabbing the boy in the chest hard enough to make him grunt in pain and stumble back.

“Say, you might be onto something with this!” the blond snickered, but switched to a low “Vom Tag” stance anyway.

Callum just glared and silently reset his Plow Guard.

Thus began their longest exchange yet. Soren was relentless, but to his credit Callum gave no ground. He parried and deflected every attack, managing to outright block a few and even sneak in a couple attacks of his own, though none hit home. But as the spar grew more intense, Callum began to draw more and more from his own instincts as well as the memories of what he’d seen other people do. And because it was working so effectively, he gradually stopped really thinking about what he was doing.

Soren was quick to notice and quick to take advantage. He stopped trying to push Callum back, and instead focused on luring him away from the position he was supposed to defend. From there he lulled the prince into a rhythm of back and forth. Attack, parry, attack, parry, attack, parry; on and on until he was sure his opponent was just reacting and not thinking. Then he broke that rhythm, withdrawing his sword when he was _supposed_ to parry Callum’s attack. With nothing there to stop his swing this time, Callum overcommitted and put himself off balance for a moment; more than enough time for Soren to strike.

The knight went for a rising cut meant to smack Callum right on the chin as he tilted forward. Credit where it was due, the prince actually managed to get his sword up in time to knock the blow off target, but the awkward angle of his sword left him unable to keep his grip on it. The wooden sword flew into the air over his head and Soren went for the kill with an overhead strike that he’d feel bad for later because there was a bit too much spice on it.

But to his, and everyone else’s immense surprise, they both ended up on the ground a second later.

Few had even seen it, and even they couldn’t explain how it happened, but somehow in the time it took Soren to reposition his sword and bring it down for the finish, Callum had managed to reach up, grab his own airborne weapon by the blade and deliver a murder-stroke right down on Soren’s collarbone at the exact same time the knight’s weapon struck his own left shoulder.

“Ow…Oooowww…” Soren moaned. “Okay, what?”

“Oooh, you mmmmmm…Did you have to hit me that hard?” Callum grumbled.

“Did you have to hit ME that hard?” Soren countered, taking a moment to mentally thank the stars that Callum hadn’t chosen a weapon with a pointier crossguard.

“Like you didn’t deserve it?!”

“I kinda need my collarbone to do Commander of the Crown Guard stuff, Callum.”

“Well I kinda need my shoulder to do…drawing…stuff…”

“…”

“Fine, I’m sorry.” Callum said with a blatant eye-roll. “Next time I’ll just let you hit me.”

“That’d be great.” Soren replied, snickering at the boy’s glare as they both stood up.

The elder prince was about to retort when a familiar black-clad figure went strolling by, nose buried in a book and not paying any attention to her surroundings. Not at all unusual for Claudia, who was simultaneously the second smartest person he knew, behind her own father, and THE most scatterbrained.

He wanted to say something to her, but the butterflies in his stomach made him keep his mouth closed. And her brother being right next to him made him force his eyes not to follow the gentle sway of her hips…

Though he needn’t have worried, seeing as how Soren was too engrossed in watching his sister about to walk straight into a tree to care about much else.

‘Do it…Do it…Doooooo iiiiiiiit…’ the blond chanted in his mind with every blind step his sibling took.

“Claudia!” Callum called out, causing her to look up.

“Oh!” she let out a squeaky gasp when she noticed she was nearly touching the tree, then turned to see who had called her. “Hi, Callum!” she greeted with a bright smile and a cheery wave.

Callum merely waved back, not trusting himself to speak again. His voice had very nearly cracked just then and he was NOT about to let that happen in the middle of the courtyard for all to hear.

“You’re no fun.” Soren deadpanned, idly twirling the practice sword in his left hand.

“Uh-huh. So, I think I did pretty well today! Call it a draw?” Callum said, a bit louder than necessary in hopes that Claudia would hear about his success.

“Nope. You lost.” Soren replied as he jammed a pinky into his ear.

“...But that was a double; we BOTH went down!” Callum protested.

“True, but that wasn’t the point. Today was about defense; YOU weren’t supposed to move.” Soren pointed down to the ground, “This is where you are,” he then pointed behind them, “that, is where you’re supposed to be.”

Callum followed his finger and sure enough, there was the frowny brick, a good ten yards away.

“…Fine, okay, alright, let’s go again.” Callum said after a deep, grumbling sigh.

“…For real, who are you and what have you done with the prince?” Soren asked, looking genuinely taken aback.

“That was the best I’ve ever done against you in pure swordsmanship, whether I lost or not. I want to see if that was a fluke.”

“Fine by me,” Soren shrugged, “but do you remember how and why you lost to begin with?”

“Not…really?” Callum replied, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Because you weren’t paying attention. You stopped thinking and started reacting, going with the flow.” Soren explained. “But in going with the flow, you allowed me to control the flow, which meant I controlled YOU. You moved where I wanted you to, you attacked when I wanted you to, and you defended how I wanted you to. You let me manipulate you into a pattern; the mother of all no-noes in fighting.”

“It won’t happen again.” Callum said firmly as he picked up his weapon.

“Whatever you say.” Soren took a moment to look at their weapons and decided to throw the prince a bone. “Here, try this.” he said as he tossed his own practice sword over to the boy.

“What? Why?” Callum inquired after catching the weapon.

“You’ve been using mostly traditional longsword techniques to defend, but you aren’t using a longsword. That means your defense is weaker by default because your handle’s too short for proper grips and leverage. Look, just try it and see what happens.”

“Okaaaay…” Callum made his way to the weapon rack to deposit his hand-and-a-half sword and, courteous boy that he was, took up another longsword to throw to Soren.

The Crown Guard Commander noticed him wince as he did so, and rotated his own shoulders with a grimace. He’d be feeling that murder-stroke for a few days yet.

“How’s the shoulder?” Soren asked.

“Not a problem.”

“...You know she’s not paying attention, right?”

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about…”

* * *

Things had been going so well. Callum was holding his ground almost like he knew what he was doing, and Soren had started to break from his more rigid structure to attack from odd angles with more unorthodox attacks. It was a thrilling match, so much so that the entire courtyard had gone totally silent, save for the sounds of their weapons clashing and grunts of exertion. Everyone was into it. In fact, in one of the very few moments Callum had taken his eyes off Soren, he swore that Claudia had actually put her book down!

It was fun. It was liberating. It was _glorious_...Until it wasn’t.

Once more his “gift” reared its ugly head as a curse, roiling within him like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. He felt it as a force that pushed out from his core, radiating out through his entire body. But with nowhere to go, it simply kept circulating, building up pressure with every cycle. But his body couldn’t contain that force indefinitely; one way or another, there would be a release. Though it had never happened to-date, Lord Viren had given him plenty of incentive to make sure it never did, using the example of a steam vessel intentionally made with a faulty relief valve.

The man probably had no idea just how much seeing the relatively small vessel absolutely devastate the fake house had traumatized the young prince. Just the idea that he could become a living bomb if he wasn’t careful was enough to make him never want to use magic ever again. But that wasn’t an option. Steam explosions happened because the steam wasn’t being used enough to keep the pressure down, and the same seemed to apply to primal magic. Elves probably didn’t have to deal with it because they used magic naturally all the time, even without thinking about it.

But humans were clearly a different matter, so when he felt the pressure, Callum had only two options open to him: use it or waste it. Either way it had to be done carefully and, above all else, in secret.

Seeing as how there was no way to use the magic in the middle of a fight surrounded by prying eyes, there was only one thing to do. Callum threw the match with an overzealous thrust Soren saw coming from a mile away, followed by what he thought was a convincing stumble after the parry. By the time he righted himself, there was a wooden blade pressed against his left temple.

He tried to smile and brush it off, but the look Soren gave him…He knew the prince had given up, and he wasn’t happy about it.

‘Never thought I’d feel bad for disappointing him, of all people.’ Callum thought. It worked out in the end, though, since Soren had no desire to talk about what had happened and quickly left the courtyard, leaving the prince free to gather up his sketchbook and make his way to the tree.

Claudia offered a smile and a “You’ll get him next time”, which these days straddled the line between an in-joke between them and actual encouragement. Callum accepted it as usual and took a seat on the dirt, tension finally draining out of him as he felt the energy flowing into the ground through his fingers.

Nothing else was said, with Claudia going back to her book and Callum too deep in his own head to even be nervous about being so close to his crush.

‘I don’t even get to enjoy a good spar.’ he lamented bitterly, so focused on his own angst that he didn’t notice Claudia leaving or Opeli arriving.

“Prince Callum.” the stern woman spoke, startling him out of his dark thoughts. “The King needs to speak with you urgently.”

Callum merely nodded and stood up, brushing off his pants. As he followed after the pale blonde, he found himself wondering, perhaps unfairly, if she would’ve said the same thing to Ezran, or would it have been, “Your _father_ needs to speak with you”.

He brooded all the way to the throne room, acknowledging his brother with only a wordless grunt when asked about the sword training. But he still had the wherewithal to school his expression before opening the door.

“Boys!” King Harrow greeted with false cheer that immediately put both princes on edge. “You’re going on a trip, to the Banther Lodge!”

“But it’s spring. That’s the winter lodge.” Callum pointed out, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

“Well, winter IS coming...eventually.” the King offered while rubbing his chin in apparent thought.

“But what’ll we do?” Ezran asked. “Everything fun there has to do with snow, or ice.”

“Maybe you can invent new versions using...dirt, and rocks...You could build a dirtman! Or how about mud-sledding? That could be a thing!”

Callum just blinked owlishly, legitimately speechless. Did the KING just tell his sons, the PRINCES, to play around in the mud?

‘That’s...actually insulting.’

*Groan*

Even Bait wasn’t buying it.

His ploy clearly unsuccessful, Harrow dropped his fake smile and knelt down in front of Callum.

“Look, this is something I need you to do.” he said, looking his stepson dead in the eyes for the first time in...an uncomfortably long while.

“Dad-” Ezran started, but was shut down immediately.

“It’s decided. You’ll leave before sundown.” and with one last look at the elder brother, accompanied by a firm squeeze of his shoulder, the King stood up and walked past them to the chamber door.

“Yes, sir.” Callum replied stiffly. “Come on, Ez.”

* * *

In the time it took them to make it back to the courtyard, Ezran seemed to have forgotten any and all misgivings, starting up a game of tag with his pet.

Were it anyone else, Callum might have resented them in that moment for being so carefree. But he would never begrudge or deny Ezran the right that had been stripped from him long ago: the right to be a kid.

He remembered the last time he was like that, beaming and unrestrained. Remembered it to the day, in fact; it was the same day he discovered that playing in the rain was a bad idea. Also the same day his mother discovered that the frequent little shocks and her hair standing on-end when she hugged him weren’t from him running around on the rugs in socks. That was the beginning. A promise made to his mother as a four-year-old started him down the path, and eleven years later the only thing that had changed was that he had even more secrets to keep and lies to tell.

Lying to everyone to keep a secret for his mother. Lying to his mother to keep a secret for the King. Lying to Claudia and Soren to keep a secret for their father. There were even times he lied to the King himself to keep secrets for Viren.

It wasn’t fair, not in the least. But since when were duty and obligation fair?

“-they’ll kill the King?” Callum’s eyes widened and his head shot up just in time to see High Mage Viren shut the window to his personal quarters, but not before catching the teen’s eyes and giving him a somewhat hesitant nod.

“So that’s why…” the young Prince muttered to himself, glancing over at Ezran to make sure the younger boy hadn’t heard.

The look in King Harrow’s eyes, the squeeze of his shoulder, the way the man had spoken directly to Callum the whole time, even though his _real_ son was right there. His fears had been confirmed, his time was coming.

‘But am I ready?’ he thought as he continued to watch his sibling.

Was he ready to take on his greatest responsibility yet? Was he ready to sacrifice what was left of his childhood? Was he ready to sacrifice what little freedom he had left?

“Tag!” Callum jumped as he felt a small hand slap him on the forearm.

“Wha?” he looked down at Ezran’s grinning face with wide, startled eyes.

“You’re it!” Ezran said before dashing away, giggling like mad.

Callum couldn’t help but smile, the weight of the responsibility he was soon to shoulder lifted if just for the moment.

“Get back here!” he demanded playfully as he gave chase.

If it meant keeping his brother safe, then he was ready.

* * *

While he started out intentionally lagging behind his little brother to humor him, Callum was soon forced to put some real effort into the game when Ezran proved himself to be an accomplished escape artist in his own right. They had practically run a full lap around the castle before the elder Prince finally managed to catch him in the dining hall, mostly because the darker-skinned boy had tired himself out finally.

“Whew!” Callum huffed, wiping the sweat from his brow as he sat leaning against the wall next to Ezran. “Where’d you learn how to do all that?”

“From you.” Ezran replied between breaths.

Callum’s heart actually skipped a beat. “Really?”

“Well yeah!” Ezran said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “No one else around here can do all that cool stuff!” he beamed.

Callum hadn’t really given much thought to his “flippy-dippy crap” as Soren called it in years. It was just him doing what felt right, playing to his strengths. But in that moment, which would forever be burned into his memory even if it hadn’t been eidetic, Callum had never been more proud of himself. Not even when he’d done his first successful backflip, to the applause of his mother whom he hadn’t even known was watching.

But the moment was cut short by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Both Princes looked up to see Lord Viren standing at the entrance to the dining hall, his ever-present silver staff at his side.

“Prince Callum, a word please?” the man asked politely.

“Of course, Lord Viren.” Callum replied as he got up and brushed off the back of his pants before helping his brother to his feet. “Ez, go pack up for the lodge, I’ll be over soon.”

“’Kay, Cal.” Ezran said, scooping up Bait in his left arm and holding his right out with a fist.

Callum returned the gesture and sent his brother on his way, knowing he probably wasn’t going to do what he was told. But he had bigger things to worry about than Ezran goofing off.

“You have need of me?” Callum asked, straight-backed and stoic.

“No, Callum, I am not here to ask for your services; I’ve come to provide mine.” Viren said. “In light of the…burden you may soon be forced to bear, I feel you have a right to know what’s happening around you. This morning we were alerted to the presence of Moonshadow elves in our territory.”

“Assassins.” Callum said, more to himself than anything.

“Yes. Soren is leading a search party to find and eliminate them before sundown, but…” Viren trailed off, not quite sure how to word his next statement without denigrating his own son.

“Do you…want me to go with them?”

“Heavens no, boy!” Viren balked. “All the King and I have done has been to prepare you to defend yourself and your brother should trouble ever find you. Regardless of your skills, I would never send you out to _look_ for trouble, even if the King would allow such a thing, which he most certainly wouldn’t.”

“Then what-“

“I told you: you deserve to know what’s going on. Normally I would have all the faith in the world in my son and his soldiers, but you know how he is when it comes to magic. I gave him a moon moth to guide him, but I feel his impatience and ignorance will doom the mission to failure…”

“Forgive me if this is out of line, but you don’t seem particularly bothered by that.”

“I…can’t say that I am, if I’m honest.” Viren admitted. “I know what will likely be the cost if he does come back empty-handed, but at the same time I can’t deny that a part of me, a rather large part, doesn’t care so long as he comes back. For all his prowess with a sword, Soren has never faced a Moonshadow elf in combat. Very few have and lived to tell of it. Even without the moon to aid them, who knows what kinds of tricks they have up their sleeves?” the man sighed deeply and turned to the prince. “I’m sorry, Callum, I didn’t come here to vent; you have enough on your plate as it is.”

“With more to come, I’m sure.” Callum scoffed, wincing when he realized he’d said it out loud.

“Unfortunately, yes.” Viren nodded grimly. “Civilians are being evacuated from the castle as we speak, but there’s a reason you and Prince Ezran are being taken all the way to the Banther Lodge. You see, equal exchange is a core component of all elven societies and governs much of what they do; including their methods of retaliation for any wrongdoing against them. We killed their Dragon King, and destroyed his only egg for the sake of our kingdom and indeed all of humanity. So I have no doubt they will seek to repay us in kind. A king for a king…”

“…A prince for a prince.”

“Mm. And if they seek to truly destabilize the kingdom, as I suspect they do, I’d wager any amount of coin that they will take it a step further than ‘an eye for an eye’ and go after both of you.”

“Do you really think they’d go that far?” Callum asked in little more than a whisper.

Yes, he’d heard the stories, but he also knew that they were just that: stories. Most of them passed down through generations and no doubt distorted and exaggerated over time, now told by people who’d never even seen an elf, let alone interacted with one. Knowing that, he couldn’t picture them as the monsters they were made out to be.

But then Viren himself, a man with actual experience with elves, never had anything good to say about them.

The high mage paused for a moment, considering his words before finally answering, “Even if it hasn’t started in earnest just yet, make no mistake, Callum: this is war. And in times of war, people are capable of _anything_. From the greatest heroics, to the greatest cruelties…and often those are merely two sides of the same coin. That is what you must be prepared for.”

“...How? How do you prepare for something like that?”

“Keep your sword sharp, and your mind sharper.”


	2. The Price of Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things get much heavier in this chapter, so fair warning.
> 
> Also note that I'm basically going scene-for-scene here in the early stages, but I'm only bothering with the scenes I have significantly changed. Events will start majorly diverging from canon soon, which I hope will be as fun for you as it is for me.
> 
> Carry on.

Though he had lived more years inside the castle than out of it, the library was one of the few places that made him feel at home. It was a sanctuary where he could just lose himself in a good book and forget about everything. Where he could pretend to be someone else if only for a few hours.

He desperately needed that right now. The weight of his mask was dragging him down and he needed to drop it just for a moment. No one could know how utterly terrified he was. They had to see that he was ready to do his part; that he could be trusted to protect the _true_ heir to the throne, and keep the promises he’d made to his mother and stepfather. The step-prince, the _bastard_ , would prove his worth.

But with every hour that ticked by, dread rose up inside him. Earlier he had seen Soren back in the castle, his face blank and stride lacking all of its normal swagger. He’d found nothing; the elves were still out there. They were still coming, and though Callum knew he wouldn’t hesitate to give his life to protect his brother, the reality that he may very well have to do it as soon as tonight came crashing down on him. His life may end without him having ever had a chance to live it.

It was a horrifying notion for anyone, so for a fifteen-year-old to have made it even this long before breaking down was admirable.

‘It’s not fair…’ Callum thought as he slumped against one of the massive bookshelves. ‘It’s not fair! Why is it always me?! Why am I the one who has to give? Why am I the one who has to sacrifice? Why is it never enough?!’ he raged internally. ‘Why don’t I matter?! Why doesn’t anyone care?!’ he clutched his head and clenched his jaw to keep his sobs contained. ‘What about me?’

In the depths of his mind he heard a reply, formed from many voices speaking in unison. King Harrow, Lord Viren, Claudia, Soren, Ezran and even his own mother, all saying the same thing, with the same mocking, spiteful tone.

 _“What_ about _you?”_

For the first time since the passing of his mother, Prince Callum cried openly.

He had no idea how long he sat there after his tears ran dry, but he knew he had “indulged” himself enough. The world wouldn’t stop for him. The elves wouldn’t stop for him. There were still things to be done, so the young man steeled himself, stood up and set about his task.

He wanted reading material for his stay at the lodge, but it couldn’t be of his normal preferences. No tales of great heroes fighting in the name of justice and peace. No epic poems about extraordinary people challenging and changing their supposed fates. No room for childish fantasies anymore. He needed spell tomes and training manuals, perhaps a wilderness survival guide or two; anything that could help keep him and his brother alive if the worst happened.

It didn’t take him long to find what he needed, since he’d spent more than enough time in the library to memorize where just about everything was. But as he searched for something on medical treatment he came across a book he’d never seen before. Even without an eidetic memory, something so impractically large and brightly colored wouldn’t have been forgotten.

Pulling the book from the shelf, Callum found that not only was it even heavier than it looked, but the glossy, wax-like layer over the cover made it hard to grip. It tumbled from his hand and landed on the library floor with an almighty bang that might as well have been a cannon shot in the silent room.

“’Lost Secrets of Xadia’, huh?” Callum scoffed at the title, wondering just how many of the “secrets” contained within would be embellishments and rampant speculation reported as fact. After all, the book had been written by a human, “D. Giehl”, and what the hell did a human know about Xadian secrets?

But skeptical as he was, his curiosity wouldn’t be denied and he soon found himself kneeling over the open book, green eyes flying over the words and illustrations. The first thing he noticed was a total lack of the flowery, imaginative and often misleading wording found in most books with such intriguing titles. These were the detailed, no-nonsense descriptions of a researcher; one who seemed to readily admit the information had been given to him, not acquired through personal experience.

However, the author’s integrity aside, there was no way it could be the real deal. If it was, it would be tucked away in Lord Viren’s personal collection, not sitting in a library that could be accessed by any guard, servant or guest of the castle.

‘Well, since it’s clearly not that important, no one will miss it…’

Then he felt it, the familiar full-body tingle of the Sky magic within him resonating with another source, and a powerful one at that. He barely even noticed the pages of the book seemingly turning themselves and instead focused on where the other magic was coming from.

A feminine giggle reached his ears and Claudia stepped out from the shadow between two bookshelves and drew a glowing blue rune in the air in front of her.

 _“Aspiro.”_ the girl whispered, then exhaled a gust of wind directly at the book on the floor, using her hand to then direct the wind upwards, picking up the book and blowing it into another bookshelf across the room.

“…” Callum had no words, mostly because it was taking everything he had to keep his magic from trying to reach out to the Primal Stone held in Claudia’s hand. 

Oblivious to this, Claudia mistook his look of distress as the effect of her little prank and walked up to him with a laugh and a smile.

“You should see the look on your face.” she giggled. “It was completely adorable!”

No amount of concentration in the world would’ve kept him from noticing THAT.

“Did you just say ‘adorable’?” Callum asked, praying he didn’t sound as _hopeful_ as he thought he did.

“Did I?” Claudia replied in a low, almost flirty tone and a half-lidded look that told Callum his prayers hadn’t been answered.

Feeling like his face was about to catch fire, Callum awkwardly cleared his throat and changed the subject.

“It’s so amazing that you can do things like that.” he genuinely meant it. So what if he could cast the same spell without a Primal Stone? She could do it freely and be proud of it.

“Nah, it’s just a simple wind breath rune.” Claudia said, drawing the symbol again. _“Aspiro.”_

As the light breeze hit his face and ruffled his hair, all Callum could think about was what he would give to be able to show her what he could do. He could teach her things and they could learn more together. A pair of Sky Mages in the castle! 

‘One less person to hide from and lie to…’

“Can you smell the peanut butter?” Claudia teased.

“Oh, yeah! Is that part of the spell?” Callum asked innocently, inwardly cringing at himself. The façade had to be maintained for now. Besides, the way things were going, he’d be forced to use his abilities and she’d find out soon enough. Everyone would.

“Nope, it’s just what I had for lunch.” the black-haired young woman replied with a grin. They shared a laugh before she held out the roughly grapefruit-sized orb. “See this? It’s a Primal Stone. It uses magical energy from one of the six primal sources!”

Callum had to stop himself from taking a step back and quickly stuffed his hands in his pockets. Claudia probably thought the roiling storm inside was particularly active because she’d just used it, but he knew different: it was reacting to him the same as he was reacting to it.

“Go ahead, look!” Claudia insisted, holding the orb out for him to take it.

“I…don’t think that’s a good idea.” Callum said, this time unable to keep from stepping back.

“Oh, don’t be like that! I mean, sure, it contains a deadly thunderstorm captured from the top of Mount Kalik, but it’s perfectly safe to hold!”

Callum slowly took his hands out of his pockets. He knew he was tempting fate, but he had no good reason he could give to decline the offer. Plus, when would he ever get another opportunity to hold one of the rarest objects in the world, let alone the Pentarchy?

He reached for it, but when his fingertips were just an inch from its surface a thick arc of electricity jumped from it, accompanied by a loud “crack” that startled Claudia enough to make her fumble the stone.

“YEOW!!!” Callum yelped dramatically, shaking his right hand like he’d been burned.

“Oh, crapbaskets, are you alright?!”

“I don’t think it likes me.” the boy said, his voice slightly muffled by the finger in his mouth. 

Claudia sighed in relief, then paused for a moment before she began looking back and forth between Callum and the orb with narrowed eyes.

The prince cursed inwardly; he should’ve known Claudia would be familiar enough with the stone to know what had just happened should’ve been impossible. And since the stone clearly wasn’t defective, whatever it was had to be because of him.

“You’re so lucky you get to practice magic.” Callum said with a pronounced pout, hoping she wouldn’t be able to resist cheering him up.

Fortunately, he was right. “Hey, you get to practice sword fighting!” 

“Which I’m not very good at.” Callum snorted, then noticed the odd look she was giving him. “What?”

“Do you really think that?”

“I doubt I’m the only one.”

“Uh, yeah, you kinda are.” Claudia countered with a light laugh. “There’s a reason all the guards stop what they’re doing to watch you and Soren in the courtyard. And it’s NOT because they want to see you get your butt kicked.” she added the last bit quickly as she saw Callum about to retort. “You didn’t hear it from me, but YOU are Soren’s favorite sparring partner.”

“But he gets to spar with King Harrow himself.” Callum pointed out. Before he became king, the man had been known as Harrow the Warrior Prince, and Callum had personally seen enough to know the kingly lifestyle hadn’t dulled his skills at all.

“And yet YOU are still his favorite.” Claudia said with a smirk. “Think about it, Cal; if my brother didn’t like training you, wouldn’t he have foisted it off on someone else by now?”

Callum didn’t really have an answer for that, since Soren wasn’t at all above pulling rank on one of his soldiers to make them do something he wanted no part of.

“Even if that’s true, I’d still switch places with you in a heartbeat.”

Claudia gave him another odd look before her eyes lit up and she tapped her nose three times then pointed at him before running off deeper into the library with an excited squeal.

“Three taps, must be a good idea.” Callum said to himself, smiling as he watched the young dark mage run to the other side of the room with another squeal, having apparently gone the wrong way. It had taken him a while to understand Claudia, but after some “covert” observation and deciphering her various gestures and noises, he felt he had a good grasp of who she was.

If the time was coming for him to lay down his life, he would definitely miss her and Ezran the most.

* * *

Viren paused at the door to the king’s bedchamber, preparing himself to deliver more bad news. He knocked twice, heard a low “Enter” and opened the door.

“My king,” he started, “we have not been able to find the elves. Sundown is only an hour away, so Soren and the others have returned to bolster your defenses.”

“It won’t be enough.” Harrow said with a shake of his head. “I’ve accepted that tonight, I may pay the price for our mistakes.”

“Harrow, please, don’t give up just yet.” Viren placed a hand on the king’s shoulder and tried to ignore how the other man tensed up from the contact. “Claudia and I are still searching for a...creative solution.” it was supposed to be a little joke, an attempt to lift his friend’s spirits. A callback to their younger days, when Viren developed a reputation for thinking outside the box.

So imagine his surprise when he saw Harrow’s jaw clench and his eyes narrow as he stared out the window, before turning to him with a hard glare.

“Call it what it is: Dark magic.”

“...Yes.”

“I’ve spent years going along with these ‘creative solutions’, and where has it gotten me?”

For a moment, Viren considered a retort. He considered bringing up all the advancements Katolis had made via his “creative solutions”. How many lives had been saved by his “creative solutions”. How humanity itself had progressed and would continue to do so because of the “creative solutions” provided by him and those like him. But there were certain things you didn’t say to a king, even if he was practically family.

“I...don’t understand.”

“I know you don’t.” Harrow sighed, as if he hadn’t expected anything more. “Leave me.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, the high mage turned away and walked out.

* * *

“You wanted to see me?” Callum asked as he stepped into the throne room, stamping out the resentment he felt when the man turned to him, but didn’t bother to speak until he was halfway across the chamber.

“Prince Callum.” King Harrow greeted, immediately wincing at the emotionless “official” tone he tended to fall back on when he was nervous.

The Prince’s demeanor changed immediately as whatever hopes he had of hearing anything heartfelt and sincere were dashed. His back straightened, his eyes hardened and he bowed stiffly.

“My king.” 

“N-No, I…Please, Callum.” Harrow stammered, gesturing for the boy to stand.

Callum did as instructed, meeting the King’s eyes without a word.

Harrow sighed deeply and looked away for a moment. Looking into his stepson’s eyes, he saw the product of his own shortsightedness and insecurities. He remembered the very first time he had met the boy, barely four years old and already smart as a whip. His eyes were so vibrant and alive with happiness and wonder.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen that look in Callum’s eyes. Even when the boy was at his happiest, playing whatever silly games with his little brother, his eyes never quite lit up the same way. Their shine was muted by a shadow from within, a silent pain that he always carried with him. Knowing that he was the cause of it was something the king, for all his supposed bravery and courage, couldn’t face. He knew how it must have looked to Callum to see his stepfather turn away from him so many times, but he just couldn’t do it. Especially after the queen’s death, for it seemed like every time he looked into the boy’s eyes and saw that shadow he could hear her voice in his head, rightly accusing him.

Even now he could hear her as if she were right next to him, hissing the words into his ear.

_“You did this!”_

“Callum…I know I’m not your birth father, but I want you to know that I…” Harrow trailed off, for once unable to put his thoughts into words. “This…isn’t easy. So, the most important things, I’ve written down.” he said as he produced a carefully rolled piece of parchment from his right pocket and almost hesitantly handed it to his stepson.

“…A letter?” try as he might, Callum couldn’t keep the sarcastic bite out of his voice. He wanted to say more, so much more.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to shout, he wanted to demand answers. He wanted to know why he had been brushed aside so callously. He wanted to know why all his efforts to make his stepdad proud meant nothing. He wanted to know why, no matter how much he gave up, it was never enough.

He wanted to know why he wasn’t worth loving.

But the prince bit his tongue, until it bled in fact. Yes, this would likely be the last day of King Harrow’s life, and quite possibly the last day of Callum’s as well, so what better time was there to air his grievances? But on the off chance they both survived the Moonshadow elves’ onslaught, having it all out in the open would only make life more difficult. If nothing was said, at least they could both go on pretending nothing was wrong.

So Callum accepted the letter, noting the official seal of the King.

“You’ll understand in time.” Harrow said, a large part of him wanting the boy to unleash the tirade his clenched jaw was keeping at bay. Confronted with that, maybe he could finally say what he really meant. But the outburst never came. “I want you to break the seal when…Well, you’ll know when.”

“…Lord Viren told me the elves will most likely be coming for Ezran as well, possibly even both of us.” Callum said, quickly stuffing the letter into his satchel, lest he act on the urge to rip it in half right before his stepfather’s eyes. “I may never get to open this letter.”

Hearing his stepson speak about the possibility of his own death so…casually tore at Harrow’s heart like the claws of a banther.

_“You did this!”_

“I…War is full of uncertainties, Callum.” Harrow said, putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders just as he looked like he was about to step back.

“Why can’t you do something about it?” Callum grasped the opportunity to change the subject. “Why can’t you make peace with them?”

“It isn’t that simple.” Harrow answered, but oh, how he wished it was. “There’s no olive branch large enough, no offering great enough to bridge the rift created by _centuries_ of wrongdoings, on BOTH sides. And I am responsible for some of those wrongdoings. I’ve done terrible things. Things that, at the time, I thought were necessary. But seeing them in the harsh light of hindsight, I’m not so sure anymore.” Harrow looked out the window at the setting sun. “I haven’t been for some time now.”

“So the cycle continues because no one wants to even attempt to break it?”

“There have been attempts.” Harrow said solemnly. “My father tried to make contact with Xadia. Messenger birds to known elven outposts on the other side of the Breach. Scrying spells, messages given to released prisoners; even their own magical arrows. He was rebuffed or outright ignored every time. Early in my reign I tried to send couriers to the Sunfire outposts with messages asking for negotiations, but they never arrived. Thunder saw to that.” the man’s entire body tensed at the mere mention of the Dragon King’s name. “Callum, I’m sure you think I struck Thunder down as revenge for your mother, just like everyone else. And you’d be right, but only to an extent. Yes, I wanted to avenge her, but I truly believed the death of the Dragon King would be a step towards peace.”

“You thought killing the creature that was a deity to the elves…would help you make _peace_ with them?” Callum clearly wasn’t buying it.

“Yes.” Harrow answered without shame or irony. “I thought Thunder was the single biggest obstacle in that goal. He behaved more like a wild beast than anything with a mind, killing indiscriminately the moment he found anything trespassing in his territory. He never stopped to think, to ask questions, to let us explain. All he ever did was destroy, regardless of whether it was actually needed or not. I thought with him out of the way, maybe someone would finally get through. Maybe we could finally open a channel of communication.”

“Why not immobilize him or something, instead of taking the risk of starting a war by killing him?”

“Because once we had something that could kill him, no one was interested in merely slowing him down.” Harrow replied.

“Why did that matter? You’re _KING_ Harrow.”

The dark-skinned man let out a bitter laugh and turned to face the window. “Ah, the great illusion of childhood is that adults have all the power and freedom. But the truth is just the opposite: a child is freer than a king.” he turned back to see Callum’s head bowed, his eyes shadowed by his hair.

“…Am I?”

“What?”

“Am I free, King Harrow?” Callum looked up at his stepfather with a steely gaze. “Because if that’s the case, I was never told. No, what I was told was to hide my magic from the world so I wouldn’t be pressed into service as a court mage or worse. I was told to practice my magic in secret, and hide it especially from my mother because she didn’t understand my potential. I was told my _duty_ to the crown and the kingdom should come before ALL else...”

“Callum…” Harrow reached out as his voice cracked with emotion. What had he done to this poor boy?

_“You did this!”_

“I understand, okay? I understand that, to be a fair and just king, you have to listen to the opinions and ideas of your subjects. You have to take their wants and needs into account and do what’s best for the whole kingdom, even if you personally think it’s wrong. But I also understand that you had a choice; you’ve ALWAYS had a choice. You CHOSE to be a fair and just king. You CHOSE to put their wants and needs ahead of your own. But I didn’t get choices; I got ultimatums.”

“No, that’s not-“

“Do as you’re told, or you’ll disappoint your mother. Do as you’re told, or you won’t be able to learn magic. Do as you’re told…” Callum’s voice wavered for the first time, “or your father won’t love you. Those were my ‘choices’.”

“…” again, Harrow’s words failed him. What could he even say? What paltry words could make up for a stolen childhood and a tormented soul?

“So I understand where you’re coming from, my king, but please, don’t talk to _me_ about freedom.” Callum sniffed and hastily wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “Thank you for the letter, but you’ll have to forgive me for hoping I won’t have to read it. Will there be anything else? I still need to pack the rest of my things, and I have no doubt I’ll need to help Ezran pack as well.”

“…”

“Very well. I’ll take my leave, then.” Callum bowed once again before picking up his satchel and walking towards the door. “If this is the last time we see each other…Goodbye, King Harrow. It has been an honor to serve you.”

Harrow watched silently as the door closed, not bothering to try and stop the tears that began to fall. 

When he finally found his voice again, he could only utter three words.

“… _We_ did this.”

* * *

Atop the lower of the castle’s famous uneven towers,a long songbird perches upon the parapet to rest its wings. It seems totally oblivious to the strained grunts and sounds of metal piercing stone coming from behind it, quickly coming closer. Only when an elegantly jagged silver sickle hooks onto the edge of the wall does the bird finally depart in a panic.

Pulling herself up to peek over the wall, Rayla checks her surroundings before slinging an arm over and hoisting herself the rest of the way up, only to fall onto her back, winded and sore. She knew it would’ve been better to climb the tallest tower so there’d be no risk of any lookouts catching her, but the burning in her arms and the number of times her blades nearly slipped out of her sweaty palms on the climb up convinced her the lower one would have to suffice.

‘Humans and their bloody castles.’ the young elf thought as she desperately sucked in air. Did they have to build so damned _high_? ‘It’s almost like they don’t _want_ anyone to climb over the walls.’ she would’ve chuckled if her lungs weren’t preoccupied.

The funny thing was that, in just about any other circumstance, she’d have been impressed. Sure, humans lacked the architectural flair of, say, Sunfire elves, to whom _everything_ had to be a statement, but they more than made up for it with sheer ingenuity. On her way up she had noticed the size of the bricks that made up the outer walls and though she wouldn’t admit it even on the pain of death, it awed her.

It wasn’t like the Skywing elves, who literally carved entire cities out of mountains. The stones for this human castle had been cut from somewhere else, then moved to the building site, then somehow lifted higher and higher into the air as they were stacked up to a height of at least a hundred and fifty meters in the case of the tallest tower. Yes, the stones got progressively smaller the higher up they went, but even the very smallest ones before the parapets were still half a meter wide and must have weighed a good hundred and fifty kilos each. Even the most biased elf could admit it was impressive…for an inferior race, of course.

If nothing else, humans were tenacious and innovative in the extreme. Admirable qualities, to be sure, but also the root of what made them so problematic. They didn’t know when to quit, when to leave well enough alone, and unleashed their innovations with little to no regard for the potential consequences.

That was why so many Xadians believed all-out war, or “extermination” as some deemed it, was inevitable. Humans were too damned stubborn and ambitious to stop, and far too ignorant and dangerous to not be kept in-check. The unicorns could attest to that...if they were still around. The death of the Dragon King, and murder of his only heir, were just the latest in a long line of atrocities that proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that they were incapable of changing for the better.

Once again their thoughtlessness and cruelty would come back to bite them. Once again the scales would be balanced, and she would be the instrument of justice. A king for a king, a prince for a prince.

“You’re wrong about me.” Rayla said as she stood up and looked out over the forest towards the Moonshadow camp. “I can do this. I WILL do this.”

But first, she needed to get out of sight.

* * *

Callum thought he’d be a mess after unloading on his stepfather like he had, but as he walked through the largely abandoned halls of the castle he found himself feeling…great. Fantastic, even! For the first time in his life he had spoken up and revealed his feelings. For the first time he had finally let at least some of the pain flow out and it was _glorious_!

In fact, the only thing that dragged his mood down was the realization it was a one-time deal. He’d likely never speak to the king again, and if he did live through the night the sense of fatalism that made his venting possible would probably be gone. One way or another, he would never get another chance and he knew it. It wasn’t a matter of courage; it was simply not caring about the consequences because odds were there wouldn’t be any.

Feeling lighter than he had in years, Callum was in such a good mood that he _almost_ didn’t notice the presence of something…magical close by. _Uncomfortably_ close by.

This was it. At any given time the only magical entities in the entire castle besides himself were Lord Viren, Claudia, Ezran and Bait, and he was more than familiar with how they all felt, and this was very different. There was only one thing it could be, and Callum wasn’t about to let it get any closer to his brother.

“I didn’t figure Moonshadow elves to be the impatient sort.” Callum remarked as he turned almost casually to face the assassin, nearly faltering when he saw that the elf was quite a bit closer than he’d predicted.

Though she didn’t show it, Rayla was stunned. ‘How in blazes did he know I was here?!’ she’d been silent as a grave in her approach, she was sure. After all, if her elven ears couldn’t pick up the sound of her own footsteps, how could this boy’s short, stubby things hear her?

“…Perceptive human, aren’t ye?” she quipped, taking off her hood in preparation for a fight. She didn’t _want_ a fight, but one look at the human, who couldn’t have been any older than her, told her he wasn’t going to back down. It was in the way he carried himself, and how his eyes showed absolutely no fear as he took note of her blades, even though he himself wasn’t visibly armed.

“I don’t know why, but I expected your ears to be…pointier.”

“Oh, you don’t like my ears?” Rayla asked with what she hoped was an intimidating smirk, hiding the fact that the comment had caught her completely off-guard.

“I do, actually.” Callum shrugged. “It’s just that most artists depict elves with longer ears and shorter horns. Always thought it looked off myself; the reality is far more appealing.” he wasn’t exactly sure why he was complimenting an assassin, but what did he have to lose by being honest at this point?

Rayla didn’t quite know how to take that, so she fell back on what she knew and hoped the human took the orange on her cheeks for anger.

“Yer silver tongue won’t work on me, human.” she said with a fairly convincing snarl as she pointed one of her switchblades at the brown-haired teen. “I’m looking for someone, an’ I’m thinkin’ you can tell me where they are.”

Callum blinked. He had never, _ever_ , been accused of having a silver tongue. If anything, he was known for rambling, tripping over his words and saying the wrong things at the wrong times.

‘Elves are weird.’ he thought, then looked over towards a large curtain covering the window to his left. “Did you check back there?” he asked, pointing to the hanging fabric.

He didn’t think she’d fall for it, so when her eyes followed his finger he almost reacted too slowly.

“Gah!” Rayla yelped as the boy yanked the heavy canvas sheet off the wall and down on top of her. She tried to yank it off, but from under the thing she couldn’t tell where it ended or began. It took a couple embarrassing seconds for her to remember she had razor-sharp cutting tools in her hands, after which she handily shredded the material just in time to catch the human’s red scarf disappearing around a corner at the end of the hall where she’d come from.

Callum knew the elf would be hot on his trail in no time and relied on his familiarity to keep him at least a step ahead. He could only hope she wasn’t any good at throwing those shortswords.

As for his pursuer, Rayla was indeed nipping at his heels, and it was annoying her to no end. He was a human! By all rights she should’ve easily been able to run him down, but somehow he was staying just out of her reach. She could barely believe her eyes when he came to a set of stairs leading to one of the outside walkways between the towers and bounded up them in only two strides. It was there that she hesitated, hanging back when she saw two lookouts stationed out there.

However, they seemed to be more distracted by the boy than alerted, so she made her move.

“She’s right behind m-!” Callum tried to warn the guards as he passed, but as soon as he turned he saw the assassin already in action.

The two men drew their arming swords, but they couldn’t hope to catch her. She leapt over their blades, twirling through the space between them like an upside-down ballerina and landed behind them with her swords having transformed into sickles through some mechanism Callum didn’t catch. Those sickles were then hooked around the guards’ left and right legs, respectively, and yanked backwards, causing the men to fall forward. 

Callum barely batted an eyelash at the site, knowing the men would have broken noses and concussions at worst. Instead he was still replaying the elf’s acrobatic maneuver in his head.

“Huh, is that what it looks like from the other side?” he wondered aloud, causing the elf to turn her attention back to him.

“What?”

“Nothing...” Callum took advantage of the awkwardness to turn and dash away, just barely hearing the assassin’s irritated huff as she gave chase.

Rayla had to give it to the human as she chased him up the spiral staircase within the tower, he was good. He’d once again caught her off-guard by not only bounding up the stairs three and sometimes four at a time, but he was no match for one of the universal truths of human physiology versus elven.

Magical enhancement notwithstanding, the average elf wasn’t _that_ much stronger than the average human physically. In fact, humans who trained to take advantage of their denser muscle structure wouldn’t have much trouble overpowering even the more physical elves like Moonshadows or Sunfires. But the elves’ advantage lay in their much lighter build. Take any elf and human with the exact same outward dimensions and you’d find that the elf was, at most, two-thirds the weight, often less. Moonshadow elves in particular were among some of the lightest, and thus tended to have the greatest strength-to-weight ratios.

This meant they could naturally run faster, jump higher, move quicker and do it all for longer than any human could ever hope to. It’s what made them such excellent hunters and assassins.

And for Rayla, it meant she didn’t need to use stairs when she had a nice wall to work with.

For Callum, it meant he had made a mistake.

Fortunately, he reached his intended destination before the elf reached him.

“Lord Viren!” he yelled as he burst through the door.

Unfortunately, he was met with only an empty room. A dead end.

The young prince was suddenly shoved forward into the room by the elf girl’s shoulder charge, but he quickly tucked into a roll and came to rest facing the assassin with his back pressed to Viren’s desk.

Rayla paused, her plan to knock the boy down and menace him into cooperating now derailed. She was reminded of the warnings she had always heard about cornered animals. Even a deer would fight with the ferocity of a dragon if it had no other choice, and if backing an animal into a corner was risky, backing a human into a corner was far worse. They were crafty, vicious and unpredictable even at the best of times, and this one had already proven himself to be a handful.

“…You don’t _have_ to die, y’know.” Rayla said as she took a few measured steps forward and pointed one of her blades at him. “Only two are marked for death tonight.”

“The king for sure.” Callum grunted. “And the other?”

“His son: Prince Ezran.” Rayla did her best to hide how uncomfortable those words made her. Since they couldn’t exactly have spies within the human kingdom, none of the party actually knew what he looked like or exactly how old he was. But they knew he was young, perhaps younger than Rayla herself, and that was the one thing that kept coming back to shake her resolve.

“So you’re here to murder an innocent person who has absolutely nothing to do with any of this?” Callum said with narrowed eyes, inwardly wondering where the ceremonial dagger Viren usually kept on display was. It may have been more ornament than weapon, but it still had a pointy end and that was better than nothing.

“Don’t you talk to ME about murdering innocents, _human_!” Rayla growled, taking another step forward. “YOU cut down the Dragon King, but you couldn’t stop there, could ye? Ye had to destroy his only egg!” she stepped forward again. “The scales WILL be balanced; justice will NOT be denied!”

“Equal exchange, right?” Callum drawled after a brief pause. “A king for a king, a prince for a prince.”

“That’s right.”

“So, by your own rules, traditions, whatever…it was the Dragon _Queen_ that should’ve been struck down?”

“What?”

“You do realize it was Thunder _murdering_ the Queen of Katolis that set it all in motion, right?” Callum asked with a hard glare.

“The humans were trespassing.” Rayla scoffed.

“She was retreating!” Callum roared, actually causing the elf to flinch due to her sensitive ears. “They had what they came for and were leaving with absolutely no harm done to your Dragon King. But did that matter to that mindless savage of an overgrown lizard? No, he had to have blood, and he took it from a woman who had done nothing to him. So, I ask you, elf: should we have gone after the Queen instead of the King?”

“…You SHOULD have stayed out of Xadia.” Rayla replied, not sure what to make of this information that apparently only the humans knew. It was known that the Queen of Katolis had been killed during an ill-fated incursion into Xadia, but no one knew how and, quite frankly, no one had been interested in finding out. ‘…Were they really retreating?’

“And let hundreds of thousands of people die.”

The boy said it under his breath, but this close Rayla heard it clear as day, even if she didn’t have a clue what he meant by it.

“What are ye on about?”

“Nevermind. You clearly don’t care, so why bore you with the details.” with a sigh Callum took a step forward.

Rayla took a step back, not out of caution, but because the boy’s throat was suddenly too close to the tip of her sword. She didn’t want any more blood on her hands today than what was absolutely required.

“Oh? Ready to cooperate now?”

“What’s the alternative at this point?”

“Where is the king?” Rayla demanded, relieved to finally have the situation under control.

“In his personal quarters, surrounded by every Crown Guard in the castle. And, word to the wise, the King himself is better with a sword than all of them.”

Rayla hid her grimace as a mere frown; she did not like the sound of that. A new plan formulated in her mind, one that left a very bad taste in her mouth. 'I can kill the prince first, then leave this boy to spread the word while I find a good ambush position. If the king cares about his son, he should come running, and with any luck he'll leave his guards far enough behind to give me a clear shot.'

It was cold, it was calculating, it was…horrifying. It was the mind of a Moonshadow elf at work. And for a moment, just a single moment after the plan formed, Rayla wished she wasn’t a Moonshadow elf.

“And…the prince?”

“You’ve been chasing him.” Callum replied with the first thing that came to mind.

“Huh?” Rayla blinked.

“I AM Prince Ezran.” his lips moved like they were rebelling against him, and though his face betrayed nothing, in his mind he was screaming. ‘Why?! Why did I say that?! I could’ve said he was with the king, or he was long gone to parts unknown; ANYTHING but that!’ he wailed internally. ‘She’ll never buy it. Even if they had no information on Harrow at all, I still look nothing like him!’

But for once, luck was on the boy’s side. Just like humans, elves tended to overlook the obvious in moments of stress, and the elf before him was now very, very stressed.

Rayla’s sword twitched as her fingers went numb for a second. There was no time to prepare, no time to steel herself; her target was already right in front of her…And she had already broken one of the cardinal rules of assassination. As Runaan had said before the binding ritual, all life was valuable, precious, and they did not take it lightly. To make the task easier it was a must to make the target just that in your mind: a target. A _thing_ , an object. That was all undone when you did as Rayla had. Looking into the target’s eyes, _speaking_ to them, interacting with them in any capacity that didn’t result in blood and death; that made them _people_.

The _target_ was gone, in its place stood a _person_. But her duty remained the same.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the throne room, entirely oblivious to his stepson’s predicament, King Harrow was suiting up for his final battle. Though in his mind he knew it was hopeless, and in his heart he felt he deserved it, that didn’t mean he would fall so easily.

But try as he might to focus on his impending doom, time and again he was brought back to his meeting with Callum. For so long he, Viren and even the boy’s own mother had taken his intelligence and adaptability for granted. They saw that he took to his lessons like a fish to water and never looked under the surface. He gave them what they wanted to see, and they gave no thought to how it affected him.

Blinded by her at least partially justified fears, Sarai didn’t count on how making such a young child keep such a massive secret would change him. Not only did she give him the idea that his gift was a bad thing, but she’d also given him the notion that her love and care had conditions and depended on his ability to hide his power.

Viren had never been good at picking up emotional cues in the first place, and Callum seemed to take everything in stride. Between his excitement at pioneering an uncharted course in human history and his pride in having such an attentive and quick-learning student, Viren couldn’t hope to see the subtle clues that betrayed Callum’s true feelings. And being a pragmatist above all else, the man pulled no punches when it came to explaining the gravity of a given situation. So when he reinforced Sarai’s edict, it came with the reasoning that if anyone knew what Callum was capable of, he’d become a prime target for kidnapping or assassination, which was already a very real danger just from being part of the royal family. And when he told Callum that he needed to respect and control his power at all times, it came with the warning that he could easily kill people by accident. Effective, perhaps; but you don’t say those kinds of things to a ten-year-old and not expect it to shake them to the core.

But where Sarai was only guilty of trying to protect her son, and Viren was overzealous in his teaching methods, Harrow himself had no such excuses. He simply didn’t know how to handle Callum, and never made the effort to figure him out.

‘I suppose part of it was the guilt I carried from the start…’ Harrow thought, barely registering one of the soldiers asking him to lift his arms so his breastplate could be secured.

He knew the true story behind the fate of Callum’s father, and every time he looked into those green eyes he could feel the man’s spirit looking back. Judging him for openly courting the woman he’d had to love in secret. Resenting him for stealing the life that by all rights was his, but that he had never and would never get to live.

It was an awful feeling, and one that only got worse after his wife’s demise. He had failed as a husband and was continuing to fail as a father, and it gnawed at his soul every time he looked at his stepson and saw that green-eyed specter. But, instead of confronting the problem and devoting everything he had to being better, he saw an easy way out and took it.

It began when he noticed Callum’s eagerness to please and chose to ignore what it really was: a desperate search for approval. Somewhere along the way, Callum had started to behave like a good little soldier; always ready to carry out anything asked of him. Harrow may not have known what to do with a stepson, but he knew what to do with soldiers.

Many times he realized what he was doing, and couldn’t meet his own eyes in the mirror because of it. But as the years went on, it became their dynamic. Anyone who didn’t already know would never suspect they were _supposed_ to be father and son. He typically greeted the boy with the respect given to a Crown Guard, but without the warmth of family. And he honestly couldn’t remember the last time Callum had called him “Dad”, “Father” or anything even approaching the familiarity they SHOULD have had. 

‘A fair and just king?’ Harrow thought bitterly, remembering Callum’s words. ‘You give me too much credit. I’m the monster who took something that was supposed to be special, and dragged it through the mud. How many times did I look at them and pat myself on the back for being able to balance being a king and a single parent? What I’ve done isn’t parenting; it’s a damned travesty!’

The upcoming fight for his life now seemed paltry compared to the battle raging within. In his sorrow and regret, the thought of falling upon his own sword, or sending his guards away and letting the elves take him, was a tempting whisper in his ear. But the anger fired back with an indignant roar, demanding that he take real responsibility and live to atone for his sins. Die to satisfy Xadia’s need for vengeance and prevent himself from doing even more damage? Or live to dedicate himself to repairing the damage he'd already done?

It was a hell of a thing, being torn between two extremes and knowing that the decision wasn't really in his hands anymore. So when Viren stepped into the room with a strange basket in his hand, Harrow wasn’t exactly in the mood for whatever “creative solution” was no doubt contained within.

“Not a great day for a picnic, Viren…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I'd like some feedback on is Rayla's accent. Would you prefer I keep her dialogue mostly regular, or do you want something more accurate to the show? I know plenty of people already have her accent in their head and prefer an easier read with regular English, but there are also those who want that full immersion. I can go either way, but I'm curious as to what looks/feels better for you.


	3. Silver Tongue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it looks like the majority vote is to write Rayla's lines normally and just let you guys imagine the accent. So I'll do that for the most part, but I will keep certain things in, like the tendency to leave the "g" out of words ending with "-ing". I might even do something where she lapses into a thicker accent when she's really nervous or really angry.
> 
> That is all.

“I…I’m sorry. I have to do this.” Rayla said, steadying her arm and taking a half-step forward. “I don’t want to…But I have to.”

“So long as you are prepared for the consequences.” Callum said calmly, as if he didn’t have a shaving-sharp blade a scant inch from his windpipe.

“…”

“What, you think there won’t be consequences?” Callum scoffed. “Your dragon already killed our Queen, MY mother, and now you’re about to kill the King and their son. They already know you Moonshadows are here, so even if you manage to get away unseen, they’ll know Xadia is to blame. And between you and me, I’d expect something _truly_ nasty in retaliation. Because that’s what happens when you keep the cycle going.”

“I…No!” Rayla snarled. “I HAVE to do this!”

“You know this is wrong.”

“An assassin doesn’t decide right or wrong; only life and death.” Rayla countered with the words pounded into her skull on an almost daily basis for years during her training.

“It’s a wonder you can even stand; an ego that big must be heavy.”

“You shouldn’t mock someone who has a sword at your neck.” Rayla hissed through clenched teeth.

“And you should know this won’t solve anything.”

“This is justice! Humans attacked us unprovoked!”

“What about all the times you and your winged geckos attacked US unprovoked?!” Callum bit back furiously. His plan had been to keep the elf talking and stall her long enough to come up with _something_ to get out of this mess and get to his brother, but he found himself getting just a bit too emotionally invested.

“You trespassed!”

“We’ve been attacked in our own homes!” Callum hissed. “Magical creatures stalk the outskirts of every village and city, looking for easy prey. Elves have been captured trying to ‘reclaim’ Xadian artifacts they had no rights to. And _everyone_ lives in fear of the dragons who cross the borders without a care to terrorize our towns because they’re hungry, or bored, or are having a bad day and want to take it out on us ‘lesser beings’.”

“How da-”

“I’ve been there, elf!” the prince barked before she could get another word in. “I felt the heat! I smelled the smoke! I heard the screams! I…” he took a calming breath before continuing, “I have _been there_.”

“…Do you think saying these things will make me spare you?” Rayla asked lowly, suddenly unable to meet the human’s piercing gaze.

“No.” Callum shook his head. “But if I am to die by your hand, I won’t let you hide behind your sorry justifications. You act like everything you do is merely in retaliation for wrongs committed against you, like you’ve never instigated anything. Like you aren’t a bunch of hypocrites.”

“…So what, you’re just tryin’ to make me feel bad about this? Like it’s not tearin’ me up inside already?! I told you I don’t WANT to do this, and I meant it! But I _bound_ myself to it!” she held up her left arm to show the silver band around her wrist, as if it would mean anything to the human prince. “I pledged my heart for Xadia, and that is a vow I cannot and will not take back.”

“Hmph, your heart for Xadia, but your blade for war.” Callum said, having the audacity to actually reach up and tap the flat of the elf’s sword. “And so the cycle continues, because once again no one has the guts to even try to stop it.” this was good, this was what he needed. He had her thinking the only threat was in his so-called silver tongue, and with her convinced he was a talker instead of a fighter, the element of surprise was his.

But, as the saying went: If you want the universe to laugh, show it your plans.

“Callum.” came an uncomfortably familiar voice from an uncomfortably close proximity. “Psst, Callum!”

“Shh, go away!” Callum hissed at the large painting of a creepy-looking girl holding a creepy-looking sheep in a field, surrounded by even creepier-looking sheep. Panic and fear marred his features for the first time since his encounter with the assassin.

“…I found something.” Ezran said, something about the tone of his voice causing the hair to rise on the back of the elder prince’s neck.

“Are…you talking to that painting?” Rayla asked, starting to wonder if she had eaten some bad berries and was actually still back at camp in the midst of a fever dream.

“Not the painting; the spirit that haunts it.” the human replied in an _almost_ convincing manner. “He has a habit of popping up at the _worst times_.”

“…You mean because you’re with a girl?” Ezran asked and it took every bit of restraint for Callum to keep from slamming his palm into his face.

His intended retort died before it ever reached his lips as he recognized a prime opportunity. Though it seemed like terrible timing at first, in reality it couldn’t have been better. It was time to prove his worth once and for all.

“Yes, that’s exactly why. I’ve got a girl and we’re about to make out in Lord Viren’s study because we like to live dangerously. So I’d appreciate it if you’d go play _hide and seek_ somewhere else. Shoo!”

In Ezran’s time exploring the castle, he’d discovered things that had probably been lost to time when the original builders and architects died. Secret passages, hidden rooms, hidden rooms _inside_ secret passages, etc. If Ezran didn’t want to be found, only Callum or Bait would be able to find him. Just last year, at Callum’s insistence, they had worked out two code phrases to warn each other of danger without making it obvious to said danger. Callum’s was “hide and seek”: hide until the coast was clear, then seek out someone who could help. 

That was it, Ezran was safe now. The assassin would never be able to track him through the labyrinth that only he could navigate. Callum had fulfilled his promise. He was a good brother. He was a good son. He could find peace in that.

‘Goodbye, Ez. I wanted to watch you grow up to be a great king one day, but…I guess I’m going to see Mom instead.’ and he was ready for that. But it didn’t mean he would go quietly.

These elves wouldn’t get to have their way. If he was lucky he could fry the one in front of him quickly and then join the fight against the others. He was under no delusions that he stood any chance against the hardened assassins that were sure to make up the rest of the death squad, as he doubted his ability to take on the clear rookie. But if he could get even one of them, at least he could tell his mother that he tried.

He slowly inhaled a lungful of air in preparation for an Aspiro spell. It would be sloppy and underpowered without the rune or incantation, but all he needed was space; he could cast something more lethal once he was out of stabbing range.

But, if you want the universe to laugh...

“You dare try to harm a friend to the great and powerful…Ezarrow?!” demanded the “angry spirit” of the creepy painting. “Unhand Callum, you fiend, or face my wrath!”

‘Nonononononononono…’ Callum’s mind went a thousand miles a minute, but his body remained frozen. There was no way things could go _this_ wrong, right? Fate couldn’t possibly be _that_ cruel, right?

“’Callum’?” the elf repeated, with a raised eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the “ghost” as she sidestepped towards the painting while keeping one blade trained on the human boy. “Thought you were Ezran?”

Without waiting for an answer she grabbed the edge of the painting and pulled. It swung open, revealing itself to be a door, and also revealing a dark-skinned, blue-eyed child a bit more than half her height, carrying some kind of…yellow creature under his left arm.

“Uhhh…” the boy looked around nervously, then adopted an oddly cheery look. “Have you met Bait?” he asked, holding up the ugly thing. “Say hello to my little friend!” the animal’s yellow and blue skin began to release a glow that built up to a blinding flash almost instantly, causing the elf to shriek in pain and drop her weapons to cover her eyes.

Callum, in his haste to put himself between Ezran and the elf, then rip said elf’s head off, nearly ruined the ploy by blocking the flash, but it was enough to get the job done.

“Callum, quick!” Ezran called, pointing back into the secret tunnel urgently. “You have to see this!”

“Goddammit, Ezran!” Callum growled, snatching up his satchel and one of the assassin’s fallen blades before following, shutting the painting/door behind him.

“Ooh, when I get a hold of you…” Rayla spat as her vision began to clear, “no mercy.”

* * *

Back in the throne room, things were also escalating quickly.

“No.” King Harrow said firmly. “I won’t hide in the body of another and let someone else pay the price for MY decisions.”

“Two-hundred men and women are prepared to fall protecting you tonight, but you won’t let just one of them sacrifice their life for you?” Viren asked, genuinely bewildered by the man’s logic.

“It’s not the same. I would rather die a king, than live as a coward.”

“Ah, so that’s what this is about.” Viren nodded in understanding.

“What?”

“Pride.”

“No, I already told you the problem: Dark Magic.”

The clear disdain in Harrow’s voice as he spat out the words broke through Viren’s typically unflappable demeanor. He couldn’t help but take it as a personal insult and he wasn’t about to take it laying down, King or not. Especially not after all he had done for the kingdom, and for Harrow himself.

“…It wasn’t a _problem_ when it protected our ancestors after they were exiled to the wilderness.” Viren began calmly, staring into the back of the king’s head. “It wasn’t a _problem_ when it broke Duren’s seven-year famine and turned their lands into the richest in all the Pentarchy. And it certainly wasn’t a _problem_ when it saved my son, after every doctor and so-called healer in the land said he wouldn’t live to see his seventh birthday.” the man was practically growling by the time he finished.

“…” Harrow stared at the dark mage through narrowed eyes, but said nothing.

Glancing around, Viren noted that the guards present, for all the things they had trained for and experienced in the field, looked visibly uncomfortable with what they were witnessing. Their eyes darted about, looking in every direction but his, and he swore several of them seemed to be further away than they were when he walked in.

So he took a moment to calm himself before continuing. Perhaps not the wisest thing, but he’d already put his feelings out there.

‘Might as well follow through.’ Viren thought after a deep breath. “Have there been mistakes? Yes. Have there been unforeseen consequences? Yes. But this isn’t the era of the Mage Wars; Dark Magic has come a long way, King Harrow. To call it a ‘shortcut’ or anything of the sort is, quite frankly, an insult to a thousand years of trial and error, and to the people who gave their lives so that those who came after could learn from their mistakes.”

Harrow’s jaw clenched as be bit back a retort that wouldn’t have even made sense; as high-strung as he was, even he couldn’t deny the truth in the high mage’s words.

“But the fact remains that it was Dark Magic that allowed us to kill Thunder and start a war that could spell doom for us all.”

“If we are guilty of anything, it is giving the Xadians an excuse to do what they’ve already been planning for a millennium.” Viren scoffed. “You know as well as I that humanity was never intended to survive the exile. The Dark Magic practitioners were killed outright, and the rest were send off into the wild lands supposedly with no one left to defend them.”

“Yes, Viren, I know the history books just as well as you.”

“Then you should know that this war was inevitable from the beginning! They’ve been waiting for this for _centuries_ , because as much as they hate and fear us, to wipe out an entire race unprovoked would go against not only their core beliefs, but their self-righteous nature. By killing Thunder, we gave them a reason to cling to so that they can sleep at night, secure in the knowledge that they did the right thing. My only regret in the matter is not realizing that until after the deed had been done.”

It wasn’t his _only_ regret from that whole ordeal, but it was the only relevant one at the moment.

“It didn’t help that you destroyed the egg, too…” Harrow frowned. It had always kind of bothered him how Viren had taken it upon himself to raid Thunder’s lair and mercilessly kill his unborn child. He felt that Viren, as a father himself who had almost lost a child, should have been above that kind of barbarism.

“That was a strategic decision.” Viren replied quickly. “Once what we had done, and what it would do, dawned on me, I figured we could use every advantage we could get. So I went to check his hoard for anything we could use, and destroy everything else so it couldn’t be used against us. The egg fell into the latter category.”

“Viren…it was an _egg_.” Harrow sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It was the heir to the throne of the most powerful creature in the world.” Viren countered. “In time, it could have become even stronger than Thunder, with a personal vendetta against all mankind. It was a…distasteful thing, but in sparing that egg I would have doomed future generations to extinction.”

“…That sounds like a reason you cling to so you can sleep at night.” the king remarked coolly.

“And what reason will _you_ cling to in your final moments? How will you rationalize it when _dozens_ of these soldiers die trying to protect you, only for their sacrifices to be in vain? How will you justify turning your own sons into _orphans_?”

“Get out.” the king ordered with a scowl on his face that bordered on a snarl. “And take your two-headed monstrosity with you.”

Viren had half a mind to defy the order, until he noticed the guards around him had tensed up and several were looking directly at him. The message was clear: if he didn’t move, he would _be_ moved.

‘I’ll try again later.’ he thought as he stooped to pick up the basket containing the Soulfangs. Tempers had flared, things had been said and everyone needed a chance to cool down. But Viren wasn’t defeated just yet. ‘He just needs to be reminded of how much Katolis and her people depend on him, that’s all…’

He just needed to figure out a way to break through to the rational, level-headed man he’d known Harrow to be for so many years.

Once the throne room doors closed behind the dark mage, Harrow turned to one of the guards.

“Find Mordecai and bring him here.” Harrow barked. “I have need of him.”

“By your command, sir.” the guard said with a bow, then hurried out of the room.

* * *

“What the hell, Ezran?!” Callum screamed as he ran through the downright spooky passage with Ezran and Bait on his back. “I told you to fucking HIDE!”

Ezran frowned, hating it when his brother cursed. He only did it when he was really angry, but still.

“I couldn’t just let her hurt you!”

“So let her hurt both of us?!”

“…Always together, together always.” was the younger male’s mumbled response.

“That doesn’t apply to things like this, Ez.” Callum said, silently regretting having ever taught Ezran their late mother’s little motto.

“Why? Because I’m supposed to be the ‘important one’?” Ezran replied somewhat brattily. Perhaps he realized more than his sibling gave him credit for.

“…”

“…Right.”

“Don’t be a smartass.” Callum grunted.

“No, I mean _turn_ right.” Ezran clarified.

“Oh.” Callum did as directed.

“You’re only makin’ this worse!” the elf called out from somewhere behind them, her voice echoing off the walls and making it difficult to tell how close or far she was.

“Bite me, elf!” Callum yelled back.

“Oh, I’ll do a whole lot worse than that!”

“She sounds mad.” Ezran said, clearly uneasy about Callum antagonizing her.

“I’d be mad, too, if I didn’t have pinkies.” the older boy nearly tripped himself up laughing at his own joke.

“Then I’ll be sure to cut those off first!” the elf howled, somehow sounding closer and further away at the same time.

“How did you hear that?!” Callum yelled incredulously.

“Pointy ears, remember?!”

“Dammit!”

“Left.” Ezran whispered, hoping the elf couldn’t hear him over the sound of Callum’s footsteps.

The elder brother didn’t miss a beat, making the hairpin turn and firing off down the corridor. He felt as though his lungs should’ve been burning, but he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The brothers soon came to what appeared to be a dead end and Callum came to a sliding halt.

“Great, what now?”

“Let me down!” Ezran said, running over to the stone wall as soon as his feet touched the floor. “Let’s see…Rock, rock, stone, rock, stone, stone, rock, stone, rock, stone-“

“Whatever you’re doing back there, can you go a little faster?” Callum pleaded, facing back down the passage with the elf’s switchblade at the ready in a reverse grip.

“Ugh, you made me do stone instead of rock!” Ezran complained.

“The hell’s the difference?!”

“Rock, rock, stone, rock, stone, stone, rock, stone, rock, stone, rock.” a distinct “click” accompanied the final rock, immediately followed by a hollow rumbling in the floor and the scrape of stone on stone.

Ezran beamed proudly as the circular indentation in the floor started to turn and collapse, becoming a spiraling set of stairs into a lower chamber.

The brothers wasted no time in heading down, where Ezran was quick to run over to a small statue of some three-eyed ogre-looking thing holding a sword and pushed down on it. The staircase lifted back into the ceiling and only when it was fully in place did Callum release the breath he’d been holding.

But upon checking the surroundings, he wasn’t so sure they were actually better off down there. Glowing blue crystals lined the walls, along with some of those fancy electric “light bulbs” Viren was so proud of, lighting up all manner of horrific things. Iron chains bolted to the walls, racks of strange tools and devices Callum refused to believe _weren’t_ used for torture, and shelf upon shelf full of skulls, horns, claws, teeth and even whole dead animals preserved in jars.

Callum still wasn’t sure how he felt about Dark Magic. On one hand, it was a fact of life in the Pentarchy and he, like most people, accepted it as being no different from hunting animals for their meat and hides. But when he saw the various bones, organs and other things he couldn’t readily identify, and thought of some of the downright evil spells they could be used for, he had to admit he could see why the Xadians hated it so much.

Any spell that required a shark fetus couldn’t be anything but bad news.

“Yeah, this isn’t creepy at all...” Callum quipped with an involuntary shiver. ‘I get that this isn’t a place for visitors, but could he at least make it NOT look like an evil warlock’s lair straight out of a storybook?’

“…Do you think Claudia uses this stuff?”

“I’d be surprised if she didn’t at least know how.”

While Lord Viren had expressed his desire for Callum to become the kingdom’s Archmage, he was grooming his daughter to take his place as the High Mage. Callum was going to be something new for the kingdom, but Claudia would be the one to carry on her father’s legacy, and this hall of horrors was part of it.

“Are you sure she can’t follow us?” Callum asked, nodding up at the ceiling.

“No way; it took me a month to figure out that combination!” Ezran said confidently.

Then they both heard a “click”, followed by a hollow rumble and the scrape of stone on stone as the stairwell descended once again, carrying the green-clad killer right down to them.

“…How did you…” Ezran was too dumbfounded to even finish the sentence.

“I just pressed all the stones and rocks with the sweaty palm prints.” Rayla shrugged, a victorious smirk on her lips. She quirked an eyebrow when the older boy, apparently named “Callum”, threw up his arms like he was fed up with something.

“But the combination…” Ezran trailed off when the elf tapped her left ear. “Oh, yeah, pointy ears.” the boy promptly applied his sweaty palm directly to his forehead.

For the sake of what little sanity he had left, Callum didn’t even try to make sense of the exchange. He took his place between the two and prepared for the fight of his brother’s life.

“If you give my sword back right now, I promise I’ll only take your pinkies. It’s not like you need ‘em.” Rayla waggled her fingers with a smile that looked more like a wolf baring its teeth.

“If you leave right now, I promise I’ll let you live.”

“Cal…” Ezran whimpered. He didn’t like the way Callum said that. There was something different in his tone, something he’d never heard before. It sent a chill down the child’s spine and made the hair on his neck stand on-end. 

It made him want to back away from his brother.

“…You know I can’t do that.” Rayla said with genuine regret as her eyes traced over the bands on her wrists, which she swore had already gotten tighter.

“Very well. I am Prince Callum of Katolis,” Callum announced as he took off his satchel and tossed it behind him, “and that’s my brother back there. You want him? You’ll have to go through me.”

“Really?” the elf inquired dubiously, though she did note that his stance suggested he had some skill with a blade.

“…Well, there is one alternative.” Callum drawled.

“And that is?”

“ _I_ go through _you_.” and with that Callum exhaled the Aspiro spell he’d been filling his lungs for over the last few seconds.

‘Sky Magic?!’ Rayla thought as she was suddenly lifted off her feet by the powerful gust of wind that came from the human’s mouth. Thankfully she was able to grab part of the stairwell and swing around behind it for shelter. ‘How is he using Sky Magic?!’

In the back of her mind she also registered that he had used that magic _without_ drawing the rune or speaking the incantation. Silent casting was nothing new, but it required either a very powerful Arcanum to start with, or a very deep understanding of it, often both, so that merely thinking the word would do the job alongside the rune. Rune-less casting was even more difficult, as it required the caster to speak the incantation while envisioning the rune perfectly in their mind, as any deviation would have the same effect as a physical screw up. Most Xadian mages saw it was little more than a neat trick, deeming the risk of magical backlash or rogue spells far too great for any serious application.

But now here was this boy, this _human_ boy, somehow doing BOTH at the same time? Rayla’s brain actively rejected the idea, even though she had just seen, and felt, the proof.

Then, as if he was _trying_ to make her head explode, the prince switched the elven sword to his left hand and held up his right. _“Fulminis.”_ he spoke and the hand lit up with sparking, crackling energy. He extended a single finger and aimed for what he thought was the assassin’s shoulder just barely peeking out from behind the stairs.

“Yeek!” Rayla yelped as a bolt of blue lightning flashed right over her shoulder and impacted the wall in front of her, leaving a black scorch mark. She tucked her body in tighter and tried to calculate her chances of making it up the stairs and out of the line of fire.

“Last chance, elf!” Callum called out. “Leave and live!”

For the briefest of moments, Rayla considered taking that chance. But then she glanced at the binding on her wrist, and two familiar, but now almost faceless elves flashed before her mind’s eye. Yes, _They_ knew all about leaving and living…

“Not happening, human!”

“Then remember that I tried to spare you.”

“I recall doing the same for you, until you _lied_ to me.” Rayla countered, then decided to take a gamble by exposing just a bit of her arm in hopes of making him fire off another spell.

He took the bait, using both the rune and incantation for full effect. _“Fulminis!”_

Rayla tucked her body in as much as she could, barely flinching when a chunk of the stairway the size of her entire torso was blasted away. Then, quick as a blink, she broke cover to shoot back up the stairs before the prince could react.

“Dammit!” Callum hissed, both from the realization that he’d been fooled, and the fact that he could feel the magic inside starting to act up.

All the training in the world was no substitute for actual experience, and his one experience with using his magic in a real life-or-death conflict wasn’t exactly his greatest moment. If anyone had been around for that…

“Callum?”

“Ezran, run!” the elder brother ordered, not taking his eyes off the stairway.

The order was promptly ignored. “You don’t have to fight each other!”

“The alternative is lie down and die!” Callum growled back.

“If you’d let me show you-”

“There's nothing to show!” Callum roared as he turned to his brother. The tears forming in the younger boy’s eyes as he recoiled away made his heart hurt. But when those same eyes looked behind him and widened, his heart nearly stopped.

He turned back just in time to see the elf leap off the side of the stairs. She crossed the distance like a ballista shot slamming her blade into his with so much force that his entire body nearly buckled and he was sent skidding back on his feet. His bones were still vibrating when a foot was planted in his chest, knocking him down. He rolled backwards with the momentum, coming to rest in a crouch just as the assassin was on top of him again.

His first instinct was to move, but then he recalled Soren’s training. This was it, the scenario where he didn’t have the luxury of using his normal methods. He was the last and only line of defense; if he ended up in the wrong place, Ezran was a goner. So he stood his ground and clashed with the assassin.

While his mind was moving a mile a minute, Rayla had all but given up on thinking at all since she still couldn’t wrap her head around what was happening. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The human child was supposed to be terrified and cowering, not defiant and snarky. He was supposed to fall easily to her superior speed and power, not match her blow for blow. And he most definitely was NOT supposed to use Primal Magic!

Not a single bit of it made sense, and combined with the weight of her task and everything else, it was too much to handle.

With her mind elsewhere, her training took over. Human or not, mages all had the same weaknesses. A sustained and unpredictable onslaught was the way to deal with them. Don’t let up, don’t give them time to even think, let alone concentrate on a spell or speak.

However, when one takes their mind out of the equation, unpredictability goes out the window.

Through some miracle, or maybe more skill than he gave himself credit for, Callum was able to weather the storm long enough to start recognizing her patterns and predicting her movements. This also gave him exactly what she didn’t want: the opportunity to think.

‘Dual-wielder means she’s ambidextrous, but she favors her left. Not totally used to fighting with just one weapon, not a fan of a two-handed grip. She’s damn fast, but to get any real power she plants herself and puts her whole body into it.’ it was in that last observation that Callum knew he had found his “In”.

The “In” was simple in theory: a habit, preferably subconscious, your opponent displayed that could be turned against them. But finding that habit usually involved poking and prodding and baiting, trying to force reactions to figure things out. Now here was this elven assassin, just giving him exactly what he needed with no extra effort on his part.

It was almost too good to be true, but caution was a luxury Callum couldn’t afford at the moment; he had to do something quick, before she wore him down.

He leaned away from a slash to gauge her reach one more time, then put his admittedly risky plan into action. He met her next attack with a swing of his own and exaggerated the recoil to make an opening the assassin couldn’t miss.

‘Plant, step, NOW!’ Callum sidestepped her thrust and surged forward inside her range to bash her right on the bridge of the nose with the handle of his pilfered weapon.

Though she couldn’t get out of the way in time, the elf was still able to drop her head to allow her forehead to take the impact. It still caused her to stumble back, but she was able to recover far more quickly than the human prince anticipated. So he was understandably caught off-guard when his own stab attempt was parried, and even more surprised when she used his own tactic against him and cracked him in the forehead as well.

‘Stupid!’ Rayla screamed at herself internally. She knew she would’ve been dead already if her enemy was more experienced. ‘No more messin’ about!’

She charged forward and the human met her with yet _another_ silent, rune-less wind breath spell. But this time she was ready. Speeding up and staying low, she plowed right through the underpowered spell with ease and took a swipe at the boy’s legs. She expected him to jump over it, leaving him vulnerable in mid-air, but instead she found her attack blocked by her stolen blade being rammed into the stone floor. This was immediately followed by the prince’s right knee coming up to cave her face in.

Rayla made a split-second decision to do something that probably wasn’t smart, but would almost certainly take the human by surprise. She twisted her body sideways to avoid the knee and rammed her shoulder into his other leg. The end result was the prince toppling forward while she passed under him to skid across the floor rather painfully.

But before she could take advantage of the prime opportunity she’d made for herself, she caught sight of her intended target. So terrified, so young, so…

‘Innocent…’ her rebellious conscience supplied.

“NO!!!” came a desperate scream from behind her, followed closely by two hands capturing her right ankle in an iron grip.

Suddenly her world became a blur as she was ripped right off the floor, swung around and thrown across the room, accompanied by the sound of an almost animalistic roar.

Rayla righted herself mid-air almost on instinct alone and landed on her feet with a slight stumble, and quickly realized she was facing the wrong way. She whirled around, blade at the ready, expecting to me met with fire and fury, but the reality was quite different. The prince hadn’t moved, though it was easy to tell he wanted to.

But he couldn’t. He was the bulwark; the last and only line of defense. No matter what, he couldn’t let her get by him.

‘I can use that.’ Rayla thought with a slight smirk, once again pushing all thoughts of what her end goal entailed from her mind. She could worry about that once she took care of this last obstacle.

Callum didn’t like that smirk. As soon as he saw it, he knew she had figured him out. She had found _her_ “In”. He’d had a prime opportunity to attack, maybe even end the battle with one decisive blow, but he just couldn’t risk it. If he went after her and she somehow got by him, he doubted his ability to catch up with her before the worst happened.

‘Dammit, Ezran, why won’t you run?!’ Callum raged internally. He was going to need magic to win this fight, no two ways about it, but it was getting more and more dangerous to do so with every spell he cast.

So not only was he already distracted just by the need to protect his brother, he was being distracted by needing to actively control the beast inside that was already bending the bars of its cage.

“You’re a special one, human, I’ll give you that.” Rayla spoke suddenly as she straightened up and took on a much more relaxed stance. “Can’t say I understand it, but I’m feelin’ pretty special myself, bein’ the only elf to ever see a human with an Arcanum.”

“…Your silver tongue won’t work on me, elf.” Callum replied.

To the surprise of both teenagers, the response actually got a small giggle out of the assassin.

“How about a silver blade?”

“Hasn’t worked so far.”

“No, but if we work together, I think we can change that.” Rayla said with a cheeky grin.

Now it was Callum’s turn to chuckle; his sense of humor could be a little on the morbid side at times.

They both stared at each other for a few moments longer, before simultaneously wiping away the near-identical streaks of red trickling down their faces.

The elven assassin then began a slow, slightly meandering walk towards the human prince.

* * *

“Soren!” Claudia called out as she ran up to her brother, who had just arrived at the king’s bedchamber with the king himself and a group of archers in-toe.

“Claudia?” Soren did a double-take. “What are you doing here? It’s almost sundown; you need to get someplace safe!”

“And I will, but not until I’ve done what I can do help you.” she replied firmly and held up glass jar full of some kind of dark grey powder.

“And that is…?”

“A spike from an Iron Golem, crushed as fine as I could manage.” Claudia answered.

“Not a mage, Claudia.” Soren sighed.

“It’s for a spell to enchant your armor and weapons!” Claudia huffed, displaying a much shorter fuse than usual. “The dust will stick to the steel, creating an outer layer that’s as hard as the golem itself.”

“Well, it can’t be _too_ hard if YOU crushed it.” Soren joked, only to be taken aback when she gave him a look that he’d never actually seen on her face before, no matter how mad she was at him.

“Soren! It’s a hell of a lot better than what you have now, so shut up and let me cast the damn spell!” she then remembered that they weren’t alone and leaned over to look past her brother. “Don’t worry, I’ve got enough in her for, uh…most of you?” she finished sheepishly as she noticed just how many guards there were.

She locked eyes with King Harrow and made to tell him that of course he had first dibs, but without a single word or any kind of acknowledgement, he turned away and walked into his quarters after a guard inside gave the all-clear.

She looked back at Soren, bewildered and clearly hurt by the blatant snub, but all he could offer was a helpless shrug. He understood that the king was under more stress than he’d probably ever been in his life, but that didn’t make being treated that way by the man who was practically an uncle to them suck any less.

“Fine, sis, I’ll take it.” Soren relented, then turned to his soldiers. “Anyone else? Might save your life.”

Surprisingly few took the offer, and most of the ones who did were visibly uneasy. Accepting dark magic as a fact of life was one thing, but volunteering to have a spell cast directly on you was something else entirely.

After instructing the men and women to bunch up around her and unsheathe any weapons they wanted enchanted, Claudia opened the jar and uttered the incantation as her eyes went black.

 ** _“Htgnerts s’htrae eeht nopu wotseb I.”_** with that, she flung the powder into the air, where it quickly fell down over the soldiers like dark sand. But none of it ever hit the floor, instead seeking out and adhering to every bit of metal on their person, dulling the shine of their armor and swords and making them appear dusty and dingy.

“Huh, doesn’t add as much weight as I thought it would.” Soren remarked as he hopped up and down a few times.

“It’s a thin layer, but it’ll do the job. Just keep in mind that it has its limits.” Claudia warned. “If you get hit too hard, the shock will knock some of the powder off, and the less coverage there is, the weaker the whole thing gets. It won’t go back unless the spell is reapplied.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a dig at me for not learning any magic.” Soren smiled.

“Maybe it is.”

The siblings stared at each other for while; silently communicating in a way they were almost never able to, due to usually being on wildly different wavelengths.

Then, without a word Claudia stepped in and they shared their first embrace in years.

“I’ll see you later, Clauds.” Soren said, his voice breaking ever so slightly, and placed a small kiss on the top of her head.

“Sure thing, Sor-bear.” Claudia’s response ended with a barely audible sob as they disengaged and shared one last look before going their separate ways.

Soren’s soldiers did him the courtesy of looking away as he wiped his eyes.

* * *

“You’ve always been hardheaded, Harrow.” Viren muttered as he stared at the huge portrait of himself and the king standing side-by-side. “Usually about the right things, but this is just asinine.”

A knock at his office door jolted him from his brooding. He hoped it was a guard, come to tell him that the king had changed his mind and wanted to talk. But when he opened the door, a pitiful sight. One that caused a fury he hadn’t known in decades to rise up within him and demand that he find the person who made his little girl cry and flay them alive. For starters.

“Dad…” Claudia croaked, tears streaming down her cheeks as she clutched an empty jar to her chest.

Viren’s staff clattered to the floor as his arms flew around his daughter.

“What happened?” he tried to be soothing, but it was impossible to keep the growl out of his voice. Someone was going to wish the assassins had come for _them_ instead of the king.

“I’m sorry…” Claudia sobbed. “I t-took the Iron Golem sp-spike…”

“For the armor spell?” Viren asked and felt the girl nod into his chest.

“I wanted to h-help Soren…”

“Did he accept it?”

“Yeah, b-but the king…” whatever Claudia said next was unintelligible as she broke down again.

Viren’s jaw clenched and he threw a furious glare at the portrait.

‘I’ve stood by you through every decision you’ve made, even before you wore the crown. Even when I didn’t agree with the path you chose, I still walked it with you. But I can’t let this go on any longer.’

\--

“Wait, please! Stop fighting!” Ezran shouted, tears welling in his eyes as he watched from the sidelines, Bait curled up and shivering behind his legs.

“What now, mage?” Rayla taunted as she finally managed to maneuver herself between the two princes. This would make the mage panic. This would take his magic out of the picture, since he couldn’t afford to throw lightning bolts where his brother could be caught in the crossfire, and make him dance to her tune.

Her swords had been scattered to different corners of the room, but her body was a weapon in its own right, and one that was better than anything the human could muster.

But she forgot one thing: even if the _Fulminis_ spell wasn’t fired, it was still lightning in the palm of one’s hand.

Callum did not forget. His right hand lashed out with unexpected speed, missing her face by millimeters. The smell of burnt hair joined the smell of ozone in the chamber as the elf grabbed the offending appendage and attempted a high kick to the side of the boy’s head. He was quick to put his left arm in the way, wincing when the blow rattled his bones and no doubt left a nasty bruise. But he didn’t let it stop him from capturing her leg under his arm before she could pull it back.

Totally off balance and having no leverage, a look of panic crossed Rayla’s face and she balled her right hand into a fist. But before she could throw a punch, the prince swept her remaining leg out from under her, sending her crashing down on her back with him on top of her. Now with momentum and weight on his side, the prince drove his right hand forward with all his might. She needed both hands to stop it, and even then just barely managed.

A small smirk was the only warning she got for what was about to happen, but it was all the warning she needed. Planting her feet, she used every bit of strength she could muster to shoot her hips up and buck the boy off. It was too late for him to draw the spell back, and with her still holding his arm, she was able to aim the bolt back in the other prince’s general direction, destroying an entire shelf full of particularly disgusting things.

“EZRAN!!!” Callum shrieked and began to flail about wildly on the floor, scoring a couple lucky hits that made the elf let go of him.

He tried to get up and run to check on his brother, but almost as soon as he got to his feet, a hand grabbed his scarf from behind and jerked him back at same time his legs were swept out from under him. He landed hard on his back, just barely able to get his hand back to protect the back of his skull. The impact still made his vision swim, but when he saw a blurred blob of green and white looming over him, he lashed out at it. Kicking off the floor, he spun himself around on his side performed his own leg sweep.

‘By the Moon, this boy won’t quit!’ Rayla thought as she, too, hit the floor hard. She then spotted one of her blades relatively close by and went for it.

However, in doing this she gave Callum her back and he took it.

The next thing she knew, the human was clinging to her like a python, with his legs squeezing painfully around her waist and his arms struggling against her own to lock her in a chokehold.

She hadn’t learned many grappling techniques, mainly because Runaan confessed that he wasn’t very good at them, which had drawn a laugh from Ethari as well as a grin with implications Rayla didn’t want to think about. But he did know of some tricks for escaping.

Callum barely moved his head in time to avoid taking a sharp horn straight to the right eye, but the tip still opened up a cut on his cheek and the shock allowed the elf to overpower his arms. A back elbow strike to the side of the head rattled him, but then he grabbed the assassin by the back of her weapon harness and pulled her into a headbutt to the side of her head, which rattled him a bit more and made him release her.

Fortunately for him, after the blow Rayla was in no condition to retaliate and slowly crawled away instead.

Both fighters took far too long to get back to their feet, and neither could claim to be steady. Their chests heaved and their arms felt heavy as violet eyes glared into green and vice versa. There was venom in their gazes, but also the grudging respect of two warriors who’d drawn blood from one another.

And then they both looked down and their eyes widened. Both could see that the other was close to one of the assassin’s weapons, and when they locked eyes again, they both understood what was going to happen.

They turned and ran for the blades, reaching them at almost the same time. They turned back and paused, seeing that their opponent was once again armed. For a moment, human and elf questioned whether or not things really had to be this way. But it was a moot point.

“That’s my brother.” Callum said, taking up a two-handed grip on the shortsword.

“This is my duty.” Rayla replied, hunkering down low in a manner not dissimilar to a big cat stalking its prey.

There would be no backing down. So, they charged.

All three of them.

“Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!!!” Ezran screamed as he ran in between the elf and his brother.

“EZRAN!!!” Callum yelled, voice cracking in panic, and dropped his weapon to wrap his own body around the younger boy, exposing his unprotected back to the assassin.

Instinct beaten into her through years of training took over and Rayla brought her sword down without mercy. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she screamed in her mind, little more than a passenger in her own body, forced to see her blade cut through the prince’s jacket and bite into the tender flesh underneath.

“CALLUM!!!” Ezran exclaimed with tears in his eyes when his brother yelped in pain and fell over on top of him, still using his own body as a shield.

“NO!!!” Rayla shrieked once she regained control of her body, throwing down her blade as her hands flew to her mouth. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…I didn’t want…I’m SO sorry!” she stumbled over her words, torn between running up to help and keeping her distance for fear of making things worse.

Callum heard none of it over his own heartbeat in his ears. A red haze came over him as a rage he’d never felt before coursed through his veins. The elf could’ve stopped, but instead she took the opportunity to strike her target down. Knowing she was there to kill Ezran was one thing, but a direct attempt on his little brother’s life?

He would melt the flesh off her bones for that.

The prince turned and brought up a hand crackling and buzzing with energy, and in that moment Rayla knew she was staring death in the face. She froze. Her training, her vows, her pride; it all left her the second she looked into the human boy’s now glowing eyes. And for the first time in a long while, she knew true terror.

“NO!!!” the elf all but leapt out of her skin from the sudden noise, thinking it would be the last thing she ever heard before annihilation. But when she opened her eyes, after realizing she COULD open her eyes, she saw that the younger prince had grabbed hold of the older one’s arm and yanked it down.

“Ezran…” Callum growled, not taking his eyes off the elf, though he did clench his fist to deactivate the spell as soon as the boy touched him.

“No!” Ezran said firmly, giving his older brother a glare that would make his father proud. “You have to stop; BOTH of you!” he turned to give the elf the same glare. “You don’t have to fight!”

“She’s literally here to kill us!” Callum hissed, the glow in his eyes finally subsiding. “So yes, I _do_ have to fight.”

Ezran frowned and turned to the elf again. “You said ‘a prince for a prince’...So you’re here for me because of what happened to Thunder’s egg, right?”

“…” Rayla nodded numbly, not at all sure what to make of whatever was happening.

Ezran nodded to himself then, after another stern look aimed at Callum, walked to the back of the chamber and stopped beside what looked like some kind of statue covered with a sheet.

“Does this look destroyed to you?” Ezran asked, displaying some of the snark he’d picked up from his brother over the years as he yanked the sheet off to reveal something amazing 

A huge egg, pulsing with magical energy and glowing bright blue, with flecks shining in every color of the rainbow. THE egg.

“It…It can’t be…” Rayla whispered in awe, unconsciously walking towards it. She barely even registered Callum scrambling to block her path.

“That’s far enough, elf.”

“Rayla.” the elf girl corrected, still not really paying attention.

“What?”

“My name’s Rayla.”

“Get any closer to my brother, and your name will be ‘Ash’.” Callum threatened, electricity arcing around his right hand.

“I said stop it, Callum!” Ezran huffed; “Let her pass; she needs to see that this is real!”

“Then you come up here.”

Ezran rolled his eyes, but did as instructed.

“This…This changes _everything_.” Rayla breathed, kneeling in front of the egg and bringing a hand up to touch it, but pulling back at the last second.

“He’s okay in there.” Ezran said with a smile. “I can feel it!”

As Rayla continued to observe the egg, thoughts began brewing in her head. Revolutionary thoughts. Fantastical thoughts. Mad thoughts.

“…Prince Callum?”

“What?” the boy replied curtly, the pain from the cut now starting to get to him as the adrenaline left his system.

“You said the cycle continues because no one has the guts to try and stop it…” Rayla turned from the egg and looked the boy right in the eyes. “What if I said I wanted to try?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claudia's spell incantation is "I bestow upon thee earth's strength", which is an original spell that you will probably see several times throughout the story. It works with powdered material from any type of Ore Golem(also original), and despite the combat applications it's mostly used to reinforce things like walls and machinery rather than armor. This is due to the fact that, as Claudia explained, sufficient impacts will knock the powder loose and every "clean spot" weakens the effect as a whole, making it that much easier to knock more powder off.
> 
> If you spot any errors in this one, feel free to point them out. And if you have questions, let me know. I'll do my best to answer them as long as I can do so without giving away spoilers.
> 
> See you next time.


	4. Decisions, decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to rewrite this one four times, because the choices made here close just as many doors as they open down the line. I really had to think about what potential events and subplots I was okay with locking myself out of.
> 
> But decisions had to be made...
> 
> Enjoy.

With his head held high and a look of grim determination on his face, Viren marched towards the king’s bedchamber. He had to give it one more go, one more attempt to make Harrow see reason. And if he couldn’t…

‘We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.’

He rounded the corner to enter the main hall that led to the king’s quarters and nearly dropped the Soulfang basket when a familiar and unexpected face almost collided with him.

“Mordecai?” Viren blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen the man inside the castle in the last five years or so.

“Ah, Lord Viren!” Mordecai greeted with a smile that seemed to stretch a bit too wide for his narrow, almost feminine face. “It’s been a while.”

He was a tall man, easily six-foot-five, but tended to look smaller than he really was because of his thin, wiry physique. His brown hair was always swept back in a ponytail that rested between his shoulders, and he was never seen without his thin glasses. Glasses which had a strange way of reflecting light, causing a glare that made his green eyes difficult to see.

In fact, it wasn’t just his glasses that were strange. If there was one word to describe Mordecai, it would be “off”. No one could ever quite put their finger on it, but he was the kind of person that made the hairs on the back of one’s neck stand up. He was always welcoming and polite, but his smiles were too wide, his movements were too smooth, and unless he was talking the man never made a sound. He could be standing within _inches_ of you, and you wouldn’t know it if you didn’t see him.

Something Katolis’ more elusive enemies usually only learned in their final moments.

“That it has.” Viren agreed and gave a respectful nod, which the taller man returned. “I didn’t realize you were back, but your timing couldn’t be better. We can certainly use your skills tonight.”

Mordecai dipped his head slightly, his glasses somehow catching the torchlight and casting an orange glare, and scowled.

“I’m afraid I have another task to attend to, then I’m off again.” he sighed.

“What?!” Viren practically squawked. “But you’re one of the single best fighters in the entire kingdom!”

“Which is apparently why I’ve been deemed ‘too important to the future of the kingdom’ to risk my life against such a _supposedly_ overwhelming force.” Mordecai finished with a derisive scoff.

“But that…” for once Viren found himself at a loss for words.

“Makes no sense whatsoever? My sentiments exactly.” Mordecai glanced back down the hall, then locked eyes with Viren. “Viren, I have some ideas as to what’s going on in our king’s head, but he needs to get over it and remember that he has a family to look after. And a kingdom.” he added the last bit almost as an afterthought. “He’s throwing away something other people would kill for.”

Viren knew he wasn’t talking about the crown.

“I aim to do all that I can to get him to see that.”

* * *

For the first time since the day began, King Harrow felt good about something. He knew with Mordecai on the job, it was as good as done.

“That’s one mistake corrected, I hope.” Harrow muttered as he stared down at the small, framed portrait that usually never left his nightstand. “I only wish I could do more…” he trailed off, rubbing a thumb over Sarai’s smiling face.

A voice in the back of his mind, which sounded suspiciously like Viren, told him that he _could_ do more, but it would require him living beyond tonight. And he had to concede that it made much more sense to allow one person to lay down their life for him, as opposed to allowing dozens to throw themselves in front of assassins’ blades in a likely fruitless effort.

But everything circled back to Dark Magic. Even if it was used for the “good of the kingdom”, wasn’t that the slippery slope that put them in such a terrible position to begin with?

Did he have it in him to spit in his late wife’s face once more and lean on Dark Magic to live another day and make more mistakes?

Did he have it in him to grab hold of a second chance at life, face his mistakes and devote that second chance to fixing them?

Whatever the case, Harrow knew that he had to make a decision soon, while he still had the luxury of choice.

But before he could decide anything, his chamber door opened and just the briefest glance from the corner of his eye told him it was Viren.

“Your Highness.” the man greeted with uncharacteristic stiffness.

“High Mage.” Harrow responded as he placed the portrait face-down on the bed and stood up to walk over to his chair. “Why have you brought that abomination before me again?”

“I've come for one last chance to talk some sense into you.” Viren answered frankly, holding himself back from reminding the king that, though his particular Soulfang was a mutation, it was still a naturally occurring creature and not an “abomination”.

“Oh, have you?” Harrow reached for his sword and began sharpening it.

Viren clenched his jaw for a moment at the clearly dismissive tone and actions, but he wouldn’t allow himself to be so easily suckered in.

‘Is this what we’ve been reduced to? Trying to bait each other into an outburst?’ he thought, but kept his expression and voice completely neutral. “Or maybe the opposite. Would you allow me to explain?”

“...Go on.”

Viren made his way over to the king and sat down on the edge of the bed, laying the basket and his staff down beside him.

“You are my king...but you are also my friend.”

“‘Friend’?”

Viren didn’t like the tone or the raised eyebrow, but he plowed through regardless.

“Yes. Right now, I do not come to you as the High Mage speaking to the king. I come to you as a man speaking to his brother.”

“...I see the problem now.” Harrow leaned back in his chair with a strange half-smile and looked up at the ceiling. “It’s that you believe you are special; better than everyone else, and above the laws of this kingdom.”

And with that, Viren was done being nice. “I’ve certainly done more for the kingdom, and indeed the entire Pentarchy, than most.” he shrugged. “And exactly what laws have I broken?”

Harrow’s eyes widened for a moment, having not expected the other man to actually fire back.

“That is exactly the kind of arrogance I’m talking about. Assassins are coming to murder me tonight, and you think you can waltz in here and waste what precious time I have left!”

“Time that would otherwise be spent doing...what? Honing an edge that’s already razor sharp? Talking to your bird? Or maybe marinating in self-pity?”

“You…” Harrow was truly speechless. Viren, for all the liberties he regularly took, had never spoken to him like this. No one had.

“I thought it was pride before, but it’s not, is it? It’s guilt. You see this war as your own personal monster that’s come knocking at the kingdom’s door. Well, if it is indeed _our_ monster, I fail to see how throwing yourself into its jaws benefits anyone.”

“...”

“So that’s it? No discussion, no sitting down to figure things out; just mockery and haughtiness? From the man who asked ME to stand by his side for the royal portrait, and who treated my children like family. This is how things end between us?”

“...”

“Say something, Harrow! Stop shutting me out! I don’t understand, so help me! Tell me the REAL reason you’re so intent on throwing your life and so many others away! PLEASE!”

“ENOUGH!” Harrow roared and shot out of his seat. “I have tolerated your arrogance for too long, and yes, even encouraged it far more than I ever should’ve. But if this is my last day as king, you _will_ know your place.”

“And what place is that, _Your Highness_?” Viren scoffed, unimpressed even as the king towered over him in his bulky armor.

“Right here.” Harrow said, staring down his nose and pointing to the floor. “On. Your. Knees.”

“As you wish.” Viren complied with only a moment’s hesitation. He wanted to believe that this was all a ploy. Something to make him despise his...former friend, so that he wouldn’t do anything foolhardy in the name of saving him. But…

“You are a servant of the kingdom of Katolis.” there was something in the king’s voice that was all too...real. “You are a _servant_.”

“...Yes, I am.” Viren almost flinched at the high-pitched chirp of Harrow’s bird. Of course it would chime in; the thing never liked him.

“Glad we’ve sorted that out.” Harrow said, then turned his back on Viren and began gently stroking Pip’s beak. “You can leave, now. And either dispose of that...creature, or release it somewhere remote and unpopulated.”

“...I am a _servant_.”

“I said, you can leave.”

“Look at me.”

“Viren…” Harrow growled.

“I said look at me, Harrow.”

“So much for having things sor-!” Harrow was interrupted by Pip suddenly looking back and shrieking in terror, flailing his wings about wildly and smacking his master in the face several times before he was actually able to take flight. “What in the wor…” he turned to face whatever threat scared his companion so much, and stopped dead in his tracks.

It was Viren, but...not Viren. Not even _human_. Lifelessly pale hair, corpse-grey skin with dark purple veins showing beneath, and eyes black as tar.

In a panic Harrow reached for his sword, but Viren was quicker, reminding the king that the man was an accomplished warrior in his own right when he had to be. He grabbed the king by the top of his breastplate and held him with surprising strength.

“What I show you now, not even my own children have seen.” Viren said softly. “No one has, since Lissa...and I see the same look in your eyes that I saw in hers, right up until the day she walked away from me. She saw a monster, but what do you see, Harrow? Do you see vindication? Living proof that Sarai was right, and that Dark Magic is this vile, unnatural thing? Do you see a monster as well?”

“...I don’t know who, or _what_ , I’m looking at.” Harrow replied, summoning the courage to stand his ground in the face of what could only be described as a demon.

“Then I will tell you. Dark Magic is the magic of sacrifice, but something that the elves, dragons and people like Sarai never understood is that it works both ways. The power we wield demands a price, and I have paid it gladly time and again for the people and the kingdom I love.” Viren leaned in closer and dragged a finger across his own cheek. “This is what I have given up. These are the _years_ I have taken off my own life and given in service of Katolis, her people, and her _king_. There was a time when I thought you appreciated it. But now you stand here, judgmental and ungrateful, and you dare to vilify everything I have done for you? You dare to disregard my sacrifices and act like I’m your enemy, when I am the ONLY ally who stuck with you through everything?”

“...” Harrow only scowled in response.

“Every high, I’ve been there. Every low, I’ve been there. Every triumph, every loss, every shining achievement, every dirty secret; I have been right there with you, for every step you’ve taken on every path you’ve chosen long before you ever wore that crown. And never have I asked for anything in return. Not coin or land, favors or titles; YOU gave those to me of your own volition. YOU let me bring my children into the castle. YOU decided to promote my son to Commander of your personal guard. The same son who stands outside that door right now, ready to give his life for a man who won’t even consider an alternative. You owe me an explanation at the very least, Harrow, and if this is your last day as king, I _demand_ an answer.”

The two men stared each other down for what seemed like hours, and then Harrow blinked.

“I heard her.” he said, eyes glazing over as he stared _through_ Viren rather than at him. “When I threw that spear at Thunder, I heard HER scream in agony. I tried to convince myself it was my mind and my grief playing tricks on me, but every time I watch you cast a spell, it comes back. Just a distant echo or a whisper on the wind, but it's there and it _hurts_. I think of her watching me from beyond, and it _hurts_ to know how disappointed she must be. It _hurts_ to think that she knows I used her for... _that_. Maybe she didn’t understand Dark Magic; maybe she didn’t _want_ to. But she was my queen, Viren, and I ignored her wishes. I ignored her wishes because I felt the results were all that truly mattered. If it would help my people, it was okay. If it would help our allies, it was okay...If it would remove an obstacle AND give me my revenge, it was okay.”

“...” Viren said nothing, not that he could anyway. He shared the same mindset, which was why they worked so well together.

“But there’s a saying that I’m sure you’ve heard: ‘The road to Hell is paved with good intentions’.” Harrow said, once again focusing on the man still holding him by his armor. “I first heard it from my mother when I was just a child, and have heard it from many others since then. I thought I understood it, and the lesson it was meant to teach. But I was a fool who missed it entirely. In my arrogance, I thought the ends justified the means because I had _good intentions_. My good intentions cost both Katolis and Duren their queens and served as a catalyst to an unwinnable war. And what I’ve done to Callum…”

“Callum?” Viren blinked.

“I’ve used him.” Harrow’s voice began to waver. “I took his desire to be acknowledged and loved, and I _abused_ it. And every time I thought about what I was doing, I convinced myself it was okay because I had _good intentions_. After all, I just wanted the best for him. I called myself giving him the tools and motivation to succeed, to be someone incredible. But all he wanted was a father, and I used that against him because I deluded myself into thinking it was for his benefit...” his voice cut out as a lump formed in his throat. “That was her son, her Little Artist...and I’ve spent all these years turning him into a weapon.”

Viren couldn’t help but recall a rather _heated_ “discussion” with Lissa about him trying to turn their “Little Angel” into a “witch”.

“For that alone, I deserve what’s coming for me. But there’s so much more…”

“Maybe you do deserve it.” Viren said. “Maybe I do as well. But this isn’t about you, or me, or Sarai, so I would ask you to pull your head out of your ass and remember the people who depend on you. Have you given any consideration to what happens if you die? You leave Katolis without a king, you leave your sons with a burden they are not prepared for, and I have yet to hear a good reason for it. You want to atone for your sins? Clear your conscience? How does that help anyone but you? How do you think Sarai would feel about you abandoning her sons? How do you think Callum will feel about you paving a path for him, and forcing him to walk it alone?”

“...”

“You have to stop, Harrow. You have to understand that this is so much bigger than you. What happens tonight is only the beginning, and if Katolis is going to make it through this, we will need the king who has led us in our most prosperous era. Not a child too young to even grasp the concept of war, not High Council blowhards who’ve never seen battle: we need YOU.” Viren let go of the king’s breastplate to grab him by the shoulders. “If you truly believe that this war is the monster we made, then it is _our_ responsibility to do everything that we can to fight it off.”

Harrow looked at him for a moment, then turned his eyes up to the ceiling. And with a heavy sigh, he made his decision.

‘I don’t know if I’ll get to go to the same place as you, Sarai, but if I do...please don’t hate me for this.’

* * *

“I honestly don’t know what’s worse: the pain, or the cold, wet nastiness…” Callum grumbled.

“I’m sorry…” Rayla grumbled back.

“‘Sorry’ doesn’t stitch me up, elf.”

“ _Rayla_.”

“ _I know._ ”

“Can you two stop for, like, ten seconds?” Ezran asked with an exasperated sigh.

An uncomfortable silence reigned for a solid minute before Callum finally broke it.

“...You know what you’re asking, right?”

“Asking the prince of a human kingdom to ally himself with an elf assassin, to carry an egg hundreds of miles across territory incredibly hostile to me, then cross the border into lands incredibly hostile to you, all in an effort that might be futile in the end, leadin' to your death for being a human in Xadia, and mine for being a traitor.” Rayla replied, all in a single breath.

“...Just making sure.” Callum knew full well what this course of action would entail, and how it could end. But looking at the egg, you couldn’t help but recall what Harrow had told him. ‘Olive branches don’t get much bigger than this...’

“That’s _two_ princes.” Ezran corrected.

“No.” Callum shot back without missing a beat.

“Yes.”

“ _No._ What she said wasn’t a joke, Ezran. If we do this, it’ll be dangerous enough without me having to worry about you as well.”

“So it’s okay for you to risk your own life, but I can’t make the same choice?”

“Not when you’re nine years old, and the only heir to a throne that…” Callum stopped himself from saying it outright, but the implication was clear.

Neither of them noticed Rayla flinch when at the mention of Ezran’s age.

The younger boy had a brief look of confusion on his face before his eyes darted to the elf and widened as it suddenly clicked. She may have switched sides, but there was no way she was the only one sent. There had to be more, and if one was already in the castle…

“The egg! It has to be more important than…their mission, right? If we show them that it’s still alive-”

“They’ll kill you and take it.” a new voice interrupted.

All three of them whirled around and Rayla whipped out her swords, causing Callum to push Ezran behind himself on reflex.

“Claudia?” Callum blinked after recognizing the person on the stairs, and the Primal Stone in her hand.

“Are you alright, Callum?” the girl asked upon seeing the blood and condition of his clothing.

“I gave as good as I got, don’t worry.” Callum replied. Noting the redness in her eyes, he was tempted to ask if _she_ was alright.

“Well, let’s see how she likes what I have to give her.” Claudia smirked as she drew the Fulminis rune in the air. “Get behind me, boys; I’ve got this.”

“...Claudia, why is Thunder’s egg in the basement?” Callum asked?

“Because my father took it.”

“ _Stole_ it, you mean.” Rayla sniped.

“It was his by right of combat, elf, just like any other weapon dropped by a defeated enemy.”

“‘Weapon’?!” Rayla repeated incredulously. “It’s an _egg_!”

“On the outside, sure. But the thing inside? THAT is a weapon.”

“It’s not a ‘thing’!” Rayla hissed. “It has a mother, and it needs to go back to her!"

“To be raised to hate humans and seek revenge for the death of its father? We have enough dragon problems around here, thank you very much.”

Rayla was instantly reminded of what the prince said about dragons terrorizing human settlements.

“...She’s right; it wants its mother.” Ezran said as he took the egg of the pedestal and watched it actually glow brighter in his arms.

Claudia noticed it, too. “Ezran, be careful with that…”

“...” Ezran looked at Claudia, then turned his eyes to the elf, who quickly met his gaze. He studied her for a moment, then made his choice. “Follow me.” and with that, he turned and ran towards the open passageway at the back of the chamber.

Rayla didn’t need to be told twice and shot off after him with only the briefest glance at the other girl’s crackling right hand.

Callum’s heart damn near stopped and his first instinct was to fire off his own lightning bolt, but Claudia’s next words kept that from happening.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hit Ez.” Claudia said as she reared her hand back. _“Fulminis!”_ she hurled the spell forward, aiming for the elf’s rather nice rear end.

The powerful spell flew for all of two feet before it collided with Callum’s own palm.

Claudia watched slack-jawed as blue sparks traveled down the boy’s arm and into his body before disappearing, apparently absorbed into him.

“W-What?” she stammered, having trouble processing what she had just seen.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that.” Callum said with an eerie calm, then grabbed the dark mage’s left wrist, making her drop the Primal Stone, and quickly slapped one of the iron shackles hanging from the ceiling onto it.

“Callum, what are you doing?!” Claudia shouted once she regained her faculties.

“The right thing.” Callum answered as he backed up. “I hope.” he turned to run, but paused when he stepped too close to the Primal Stone and a small arc of electricity jumped between it and his foot. The orb even rolled towards him a bit, as if to follow him.

It didn’t escape Claudia’s notice, either. “Callum…are you…?” the notion was so unfathomable that she couldn’t even bring herself to form the actual words.

“Like goes with like, I guess.” the prince offered with an unconvincing smile, then stooped to pick up the stone. 

As soon as he touched it, he knew it was a bad idea. He had trouble controlling his magic even hours after a thunderstorm passed over, but holding one in his hands? It was too much. Yes, leaving it with Claudia ensured that she would be that much more of a threat if/when she and Soren were sent out to find them. But every instinct in the young prince told him that it would be so much more dangerous in his own hands. He couldn’t allow his magic to run wild like it wanted to while he held the orb, lest he become a threat to his own brother, and anyone else who happened to be around at the wrong time.

And speaking of threats to his brother, he had to catch up to that elf before she decided to capitalize on the golden opportunity presented to her.

Just when she thought she couldn’t be any more surprised by the turn of events, Claudia was thrown for yet another loop when Callum picked up her Primal Stone and, instead of running off with it, set it down inside a large goblet next to the back entrance/exit of her father’s secret lair before running off.

“I’m sorry, Claudia!” he considered the very real possibility that this would be the last time he ever saw her, and wished he had something more meaningful to say as final words to the girl he’d never had the courage to ask out.

“Callum!” she tried to go after him, already forgetting that she was chained to the ceiling. She looked around for anything she could use and found herself spoiled for choice. Now if only most of it wasn't just out of reach...

* * *

It didn’t take long for Callum to catch up, seeing as how the elf had to slow her pace to match a nine-year-old, and the relief he felt upon seeing his brother unharmed couldn’t be overstated.

“You didn’t take the Primal Stone?!” the elf asked in disbelief.

“It’s more trouble than it’s worth.” Callum shrugged.

“I’ll remember that next time your friend tries to vaporize me with it!”

“If I couldn’t hit you, I doubt she’ll fare any better.”

The response reminded Rayla of THE burning question running through her mind, but an eerie howl echoing off the walls behind them switched her priorities in an instant.

“Those aren’t wolves!” Ezran shouted.

Rayla looked back just in time to see two... _things_ turn the corner and barrel down the corridor towards them. They looked like wolves, and sounded like them to her ears, but they clearly weren’t. Black smoke rose from their bodies, obscuring everything but their eyes, the strange runes on their heads and the insides of their mouths, which all gave off the same unnatural purple light.

“Keep runnin’!” she ordered as she turned and stood her ground, swords at the ready.

The creatures advanced on their target, with one surging forward and leaping at her throat. Rayla ducked under it easily and brought a blade up to open the things belly as it passed over, but her weapon went right through with no resistance, and for once that wasn’t a credit to its sharpness. The second creature went for her legs,but she was able to sidestep it and bring her sword down on its neck, only for it to again pass through with no damage done. In fact, the resulting plume of smoke sent her into a momentary coughing fit that nearly cost the elf her life.

One of the monsters twisted its body, moving like a huge serpent to bite down on her unarmored right bicep. Oddly enough, she didn’t feel teeth; all she felt was an intense burn that seemed to go straight to the bone. A quick swipe forced it to let go, but it was enough of a distraction for the second beast to try its luck.

Rayla rolled forward as the thing’s jaws snapped shut right where her head had been and she chanced a look at her arm. Sure enough there were no holes, just ugly burns in the shape of a wolf bite.

‘This is Dark Magic.’ she thought as a lump of cold fear started to form in her stomach. Their bodies weren’t giving off the smoke; their bodies _were_ the smoke. She might as well have been fighting spirits. The only option was to flee, but could she actually outrun them?

The “wolves” advanced slowly, as if they realized she was doomed at the same time she did.

“ _Aspiro!_ ” the elder prince’s voice rang out, followed by a powerful gale that seemed to bend around Rayla to tear through the wolves, destroying their forms and carrying the smoke back down the hall, where it soon disappeared in a purple flash.

“W-Wha…?”

“They’re called ‘Smokey Seekers’.” Callum said as he walked up to her. “I’m not big on the name, but they’re effective.”

“That’s not...How are you doin' that?”

“Doing what?”

“Magic! _Primal_ Magic! HOW?!”

“Still trying to figure that out.” Callum shrugged. “Personally, I think I was cursed at birth, but I figured you would know better than me, or any other human.”

“An Arcanum isn’t a _curse_.”

Callum looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Maybe not in Xadia, but around here? It makes me a _freak_. And a dangerous one at that.”

“Cal-” Ezran started, but his brother wasn’t having it.

“Where the hell are we going? We can’t go back the way we came, which means we can’t get back to Viren’s office. So what now?”

“...This way.” Ezran mumbled.

“Wait, I have to get to the roof.” Rayla said. She started to move closer to the younger prince, but a warning grunt from the older brother made her think better of it. “Listen, I need you to give me the egg. If we want any chance of stoppin' the others, I have to show it to them.”

“...”

“Please, Prince Ezran, just-”

“Go on, say ‘trust me’.” Callum cut in with a piercing stare. “Say it, with my blood still on your sword. I _dare_ you.” it was at that point he noticed that his wound actually didn’t hurt that much anymore. It still stung when he moved certain ways, but didn’t throb and burn like it had just minutes ago.

“I...Look, if I show up with you two, I can’t guarantee they won’t kill first and ask questions later. I need them to see the egg first just to open the door to talk about anythin' else.”

“...I’ll take you to the roof,” Ezran said, then nodded to the egg, “but this stays with me and Callum.”

* * *

The trip to the surface was surprisingly, and thankfully, uneventful. Mostly.

Only three guards had to be knocked out for them to get where they needed to be.

“Stay down and keep quiet.” Rayla ordered as the two humans hunkered down between two stacks of wooden crates. “They see you at the wrong time, we’re as good as sunk.” she didn’t wait for a reply before putting up her hood and walking off. She’d taken only twenty steps when she finally felt something. “Runaan.” she called out lowly as a four-fingered hand appeared on top of a parapet some above five yards away.

“Rayla.” Runaan grunted, pulling himself up and over the parapet. “You defied…” he trailed off when he noticed her condition. “You look like you’ve been in a fight. Since you’re still alive and no alarms have been raised, I trust you won.”

“Let’s say I gave as good as I got. Runaan, you need to call off the mission.”

“...How hard did you get hit?”

“Please, listen to me! I’ve found somethin': the egg of the Dragon Prince!”

“Impossible.” Runaan replied as if someone had just told him the Moon was made of cheese.

“The egg wasn’t destroyed; it was stolen. The humans...they feared what would happen if the prince was allowed to grow up, so they took it.”

“Cowards always fear what they know they deserve, and humans are cowards.”

“...There are exceptions to every rule. The human princes found the egg, and they want to help-”

“Humans are also liars,” Runaan cut her off, “and you are a fool if you think they can be trusted to do anything but betray you. You’ve been tricked.”

Back between the crates, the princes could hear Rayla quickly losing ground and weren’t sure what, if anything, they could do about it.

Well, one of them wasn’t sure.

Callum felt Ezran moving, knew exactly what he was about to do, and pulled him back. However, he grabbed the boy a little too hard, causing him to yelp slightly.

“Who’s there?!” the male elf demanded, and Callum imagined he was already going for his weapon.

‘Damned pointy ears…’ he looked down at Ezran’s terrified face and decided to do something dumb. “She’s not a fool, and this isn’t a trick.” he said as he stepped out from behind the crates. His eyes took in every detail of the new elf, from his tattoos, to his armor and of course his weaponry. ‘An archer, but if Rayla is anything to go by, that bow probably has at least two forms, and those limbs look like blades.’

“You’ve made a terrible mistake.” Runaan growled.

“We’ll have that in common if you fire that arrow.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

“I’ll bet Thunder doubted it, too.”

Now that gave Runaan pause. Indeed, underestimating humans had proven fatal for many, including the Dragon King himself.

“Runaan, please!” Rayla pleaded.

“If you don’t trust her, then maybe you’ll trust your own eyes. If I may?” he pointed back to the crates, making sure to keep both hands visible.

“...” Runaan said nothing, but he did lower his bow, if only slightly.

“Thank you.” Callum nodded to the male elf, then to Ezran as he bent down to pick up the egg.

“It...It’s _beautiful_ …” Runaan’s arms fell as slack as his jaw. He knew it was real, he could feel it even from a distance. The _purity_ of its magic, somehow entirely untainted from its time in mankind’s clutches.

“How can we take vengeance for an act that never happened? You have to call it off!”

“You know it doesn’t work that way, Rayla. We _bound_ ourselves; there’s only one way to release it.”

“There has to be something else! This is a miracle; a chance for peace!”

“The humans struck down the King of the Dragons! Justice will not be denied.” he then glared at the human boy. “Give me the egg.”

“I don’t think so.”

Runaan stepped forward with a snarl, only to find Rayla in his path, weapons drawn.

“Callum, Ezran, go.” she commanded.

The green-eyed prince almost looked like he wanted to argue, but a quick glance to his left reminded him that there was a non-combatant that needed to be as far away from all this as possible. So he kneeled down, signalled for Ezran to hop on his back, then took off at a clip that had even Runaan raising an eyebrow.

“What did I tell you? Exceptions to the rule.” Rayla smirked.

“...Have you really thrown your lot in with _them_?”

“If it means a chance to change the world for the better, then yes.”

“You’re already wounded and I will not hold back. Is this how you want your life to end?”

“What I _want_ is for you to see what I see, and realize that this is worth risking everything.”

Runaan regarded her for a moment, then turned his eyes to the sky to see the clouds steadily parting, revealing a bright and magnificent full moon.

“...I will tell the others you fell trying to recover the egg. Should I survive this mission, you will be given a hero’s burial back home, and I will take the truth of this night to my grave. Not even Ethari will know.”

With the clouds out of the way, the moonlight hit Runaan full-on and his body became a living shadow.

“...Thank you, Runaan.” Rayla said, her own body fading into the ethereal form that made her people infamous. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”

* * *

“What do we do now?” Ezran asked, hopping down from his brother’s back when they stopped next to a cart full of hay in the courtyard.

“ _You_ are going to hide in here.” Callum stuffed the giant egg into the hay, then picked Ezran up and dumped him in as well, along with Bait. “ _I_ am going to go get your backpack and some other stuff from the castle.”

“Aren’t you gonna go tell Dad about the egg?”

“Lord Viren doesn’t do much without the king’s permission; there’s no way he doesn’t know about it.” Callum replied. “If I go to either of them, they WILL stop us and we won’t get another chance. That also means we can’t stay at the lodge, which means we’ll either need to camp out or go into towns for the night. Either way, we’re going to need coin, or things we can sell for coin. I also need a weapon and...there’s a lot that needs to happen for any of this to work, alright?”

“...Alright.” Ezran mumbled, though Callum could see his eyes started to glisten.

“Look, Ez, even if King Harrow doesn’t know about the egg, what good will it do to tell him at this point? Knowing the egg is still alive only changes the assassins' plans for _you_. Maybe. The king is still the main target and even one of their own couldn’t convince them to stop.”

“...Why don’t you call him ‘Dad’?”

“Because he’s not, and he never wanted to be. Not for me.” the answer came out far harsher than Callum intended, but he wasn’t about to apologize for being honest for once. “Now stay here, keep quiet and tell Bait to tone it down.” he then dashed off back into the castle.

He never heard the stifled sobs coming from the hay cart.

* * *

‘We might actually win this!’ Soren thought as he knocked away another translucent assassin.

Yes, the Moonshadows had finally arrived and begun their assault with an admittedly scary entrance, but compared to the stories he’d heard and the warnings of his father...the Commander wasn’t that impressed.

Sure, the elves looked like ghosts, but he could still see them clearly. Yes, they were fast, but not too far from Callum on a good day. And while they definitely had some power behind their attacks, he had quickly figured out that they were lightweights, quite literally, and needed leverage and/or momentum to get the full effect.

Hardly the unstoppable forces of nature he’d been led to expect. Really, really good fighters, but not unstoppable.

That said…

“DEFEND THE DAMNED DOORS!” Soren roared as he noticed one of the assassins trying to kick them open.

They were particularly good at using chaos to their advantage. Every time Soren and his troops tried to form up around the door, the assassins managed to disrupt their formation in one way or another.

The one with the longbow that turned into twin sabers was especially adept at making himself a deadly nuisance.

Speaking of nuisances, Soren caught sight of one of his men engaging the only assassin he felt comfortable labeling as a woman. She wielded two sickle-like weapons which she used to not only pierce armor, but hook onto it for some unorthodox and effective grappling moves.

She was fighting Marlow, whose dueling skill and lightning-quick estoc/longsword hybrid had her on the retreat. She was so focused on avoiding the tip of his blade, that she didn’t realize she was being herded.

Soren thrust forward and ran her through, piercing her right lung. A second later, he had to turn to the side to avoid being stabbed by Marlow’s sword as it impaled her left lung. They withdrew their blades at the same time, but Soren wasn’t done. He grabbed the elf by the hair and kicked her legs out from under her, then brought his boot down on her head with all his might.

He’d honestly expected it to take a couple tries, but it was like stepping on a shoddy wicker basket.

“Yeah, you aren’t so tough.” Soren muttered, making sure to wipe his foot off on the rug before rejoining the fight.

* * *

“Speakin’ from experience, your brother can handle himself, Ezran.” Rayla said, trying her best to keep the human boy calm.

Ever since the sounds of battle had erupted from the tower, he’d been pacing nervously.

“Our bedroom is in that tower, too.” Ezran pointed out. “What if he got caught up in... _that_?”

“I dunno, I think we’d be hearin’ somethin’ very different if he was.” as far as she could tell, not a single spell had been cast as of yet.

“Then where is he?”

“I can go lo...Nevermind.” Rayla pointed towards the end of the courtyard.

“Callum!” Ezran cheered.

“I’m alright.” he said. “Here’s your backpack.”

“And here’s yours.” Rayla said with a small smile, then blinked when she noticed he already had one. And had apparently changed into a fresh set of clothes. And had a sword on his left hip.

Callum looked at her for a moment, then accepted the pack. “Thanks.”

The whole group flinched at the sound of shattering glass and looked up just in time to see a human guard in freefall.

Ezran turned away, but Callum continued to stare.

“...Say the word, and I’ll go back in that tower with you.” Rayla offered, though she was kind of put off by how...detached the boy seemed.

“No, we have to get going. We’ve got an egg to return and a war to stop.”

“You make it sound so simple.” she remarked. “Let’s get to it, then.”

The quartet set off, quickly navigating their way through the castle grounds, avoiding the few guards who were late to the party, and crossing the bridge.

Just before they hit the tree line, Callum stopped for one last look at the tower. One last attempt to feel anything about what was going on inside it.

“...Good luck, Soren.”

* * *

“ _Regina Draconis!_ ” Runaan heaved out, his broken ribs rattling and shifting in protest.

The arrow flew through the night sky, leaking red, fog-like energy that soon took the shape of a large hawk.

With the last of his strength exhausted, Runaan’s arms fell and his bow clattered to the floor. He stared at the Moon, hoping to find some peace in what he had accomplished tonight, but all he felt was turmoil.

‘I always saw myself handling my own end with grace and dignity, secure in the knowledge that I had fulfilled my purpose and defended Xadia to my last breath. But now that it’s actually here...all I can think about is how I’ll never see your face again, Ethari. Never feel your touch. And with Rayla...I’m leaving you with nothing, my love, and I will never get to apologize for it.’

So caught up in his own regrets, he barely noticed the sword at his neck.

“Care to tell me what you just fired off?” he looked over his shoulder to see the blond-haired human who had proven himself to be the greatest amongst their soldiers.

From beginning to end, he had fought relentlessly, and two of Runaan’s party had died by his blade alone. Where even the master assassin himself was exhausted and seriously injured, this most worthy opponent had only a swollen eye and a few cuts to show that he had battled at all. He wasn’t even breathing heavily.

‘Exceptions to the rule indeed.’ Runaan thought ruefully before answering, “A message to my queen that her king has been avenged. Now, end it.”

“As much as I’m sure you’d like a warrior’s death,” a new voice cut in, “I’m afraid you’ll have to... _endure_ for a little while longer.”

Runaan had to crane his neck a bit more to see a tall man carrying a strangely familiar staff arrive on the scene, accompanied by a girl wearing similarly dark clothing and clutching a Primal Stone.

‘Dark Mages…’ Runaan did his best to set his features and do nothing to give away the panic that was starting to bubble up inside.

“Dad-” the blond fighter started, but was cut off by a sudden embrace from the dark-haired man.

After letting go and giving the shorter man a smile, the Dark Mage turned to Runaan, reached inside the pouch on his right hip and produced a turquoise powder that he then blew into the elf’s face.

“Sleep now, assassin, and know that, for as bad as your situation seems at the moment, when you awaken...things will be _so much worse_.”

* * *

‘This is really happenin’...We’re really doin’ this!’ Rayla thought as she followed the princes through the brush. The plan was still in its “nonexistent” stage, but they had already taken the first step and it had her heart pounding more than her fight with Runaan.

Then, as if the universe itself had been waiting for her to think of him, the binding around her right wrist stained itself red and fell to the ground. She gasped and looked up to see Shadowhawk streak by over the canopy.

Suddenly aware of eyes on her, she looked back to the path to see Callum staring at her with an unreadable expression. She thought about trying to hide her hand, but realized it was pointless since he had clearly already seen it and likely put two and two together.

“I…” she began, but the prince merely turned away and kept walking without a single word.

Rayla couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through her just from the brief moment of eye-contact.

He just found out the king of Katolis, his own father, was dead.

And he _couldn’t care less_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having a lot of fun with Viren. THIS is the kind of character I wanted when he was first introduced. They were on the right track, but then they had Harrow come entirely out of left field to shit on him for no reason, saying crap that made no sense at all. I guess it was meant to give Viren a reason to be pissed off and do things his way regardless of the consequences, but all it really did was make Harrow look like a prick.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all had some fun, too. If you see any errors, or anything that doesn't really make sense to you, point it out. No one ever got better by being told they were perfect.
> 
> Until next time.


	5. A Walk in the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little late, mainly because once again I found myself needing to make some important decisions. I'm happy with how it came out, though.
> 
> Let me know what you think.

Rayla sighed for what might have been the thousandth time since entering the forest. She was supposed to be keeping watch while the princes slept, since Moonshadow elves were at their best at night and the full moon meant she wouldn’t be needing sleep at all. But questions plagued her mind to the point where she found it hard to pay attention to the outside world.

Had anyone survived? Would they come looking for the egg themselves now? How long before the forest was swarming with soldiers, looking for her and the princes? Was the target’s death truly the one and only way to undo the binding spell?

But right now, one question sat at the top of the list.

“...Do you _have_ to do that?” Rayla turned her head to look at the elder prince, finally fed up after literal _hours_ of feeling his eyes on her.

“Yes.” he answered immediately. From the moment Ezran had dozed off, his brother had sat there next to him, _unsheathed_ sword in his lap, silently staring at her.

“Y’know, twice now I’ve risked my life for you. Hasn’t that earned me at least the benefit of the doubt?”

“You’re getting it. You need to think of this from MY perspective. All I know for sure about you is that you're an _assassin_. I don’t know what value your words actually have. I don’t know how many of you there are. I don’t know if you really fought that ‘Runaan’ guy after we left, or if you two came up with a plan that Ezran and I are playing into right now.”

“Prince, if I wanted your brother dead, I’ve had _at least_ two opportunities to make it happen.” Rayla pointed out calmly, forcing down any indignation by admitting the human boy had a point. “Between me findin’ him in that cart and you returnin’, I could’ve killed him a thousand times over and disappeared with the egg. But both of them are still here, as am I.”

“Which is why I’m going along with this at all. You’ve had your chances and didn’t take them, but if I’m going to be forced to gamble with my brother’s life, I’m not about to stack the odds against me even more by giving you more chances.”

“That’s not my mission anymore, nor was it somethin’ I ever wanted to do in the first place.” Rayla replied, her left hand subconsciously going to the binding on her wrist.

“You say that now, and maybe you mean it. But you’re asking me to trust that you’ll _keep_ meaning it. Our circumstances aren’t good already and they can easily change for the worse at any time.” the prince’s eyes darted down to her wrist. “Speaking of, you still have one of those ribbons. When we first...met, you told me you ‘bound’ yourself to your mission. That other elf said the same thing, and that there is only one way to release it. I’ve already seen the proof of that. So as long as a target remains alive, that thing won’t come off, right?”

“...So it’s said.” Rayla answered in a whisper, glaring at the ribbon.

“And I can only assume that keeping it on comes with consequences.”

“It’s...a mark of shame. The bindin’ ritual is only used for the most important missions, to ensure that they’re completed at _any_ cost. No retreatin’, no half measures. So if someone is ever found with one of these still on them, there’s only one explanation: cowardice.”

Callum nodded in understanding, remembering Katolis’ own mark of shame for soldiers who abandoned their posts: the “Broken Link” badge. Something King Harrow himself had done away with during his reign. 

“I imagine that carries a hefty penalty in Xadia.”

“It does. I know that’s not exactly a point in my favor, so all I can give you is my word that I meant everythin’ I said and I will never go back on it. As long as you’re with me, I’m with you.”

“I’d like to believe that,” Callum replied, “but again, I don’t know what value your word has. Liars give their word freely because it means nothing to them.”

Once again Rayla had to stamp down her outrage at having her integrity questioned. She had to remind herself that they had just met, with just about the worst first impressions imaginable. But after spending most of her life trying to prove herself to others, she couldn’t help but resent the idea that she had to start from scratch again.

“That’s fair...But could you at least stop with the glowy eyes? Havin’ you stare at me all night is unnervin’ enough already.”

“What ‘glowy eyes’?” Callum blinked, genuinely confused.

“YOUR glowy eyes.”

Callum blinked again, then picked up his sword and tried to see his reflection in the flat of the blade. The metal wasn’t quite polished enough to make out any real detail, but he could clearly see two spots of dim blue light.

“Huh…Sorry, didn’t know it was happening.” he apologized, then gradually reigned in the energy he was using to keep himself awake until the glow died away. “Better?”

“Much. Thank you.” Rayla nodded. Where she came from, glowing eyes in the woods never meant anything good, so even though she knew who it was, seeing them from the corner of her eye made her more nervous than she wanted to admit.

A bell tolling in the distance drew their attention to a gap in the canopy where they could still see the castle.

“...They ring that bell at sunrise to mark the passing of a king.” Callum said flatly. “They’ll ring it again at sunset for the next seven days, then they’ll hold the funeral and coronate the next in line as soon as they can.” he looked at Ezran and frowned. “But I can’t imagine this not being seen as an act of war, in which case they may rush things.”

He imagined either Viren or Opeli ending up as King/Queen Regent until Ezran was found, and he honestly preferred the latter. 

Viren was the type to move quickly and decisively. He would make plans for the upcoming war and execute them as soon as possible, making trying to stop said war all the more difficult, assuming it was possible to begin with. 

But Opeli was the physical embodiment of the term “by the book”. She would pour resources into trying to recover the proper heir over mobilizing for battle, giving them more time, but with the caveat of having to deal with soldiers scouring the kingdom and turning over every stone to find them.

While Callum thought of the most likely scenarios and tried to make plans for them, it was Rayla’s turn to stare at him for a bit.

‘He really doesn’t care...’ she thought as another chill went down her spine. ‘I get not being close to your parents, but this…’

* * *

Noon found the unlikely quartet moving east through the forest. Though Callum and Rayla agreed about avoiding the main roads, the prince had been vehemently against the elf’s idea of cutting directly through the trees to get back to the Moonshadow camp. Not just because that was where any surviving assassins were likely to be, but because going off the beaten path was a bad idea no matter where you were in the Pentarchy.

Rayla’s insistence that going back to the camp and going back the way the assassins came was the quickest way to Xadia eventually swayed him. She also pointed out that if magical predators hunted humans because they were easier prey, those predators would likely avoid someone with an Arcanum like Callum and herself.

She made good points, but they did little to ease the step prince’s anxiety.

“Hey Callum?” Ezran spoke up, stifling a giggle when his brother visibly flinched at sudden the noise.

“Hm?”

“How’s that cut on your back? You’re acting like it doesn’t bother you, but…”

“It’s fine, actually.” the elder brother shrugged. “Back in the basement, Claudia tried to hit our traveling buddy with a _Fulminis_ spell, and I...kinda stepped in front of it.”

“And it _healed_ you?” Rayla asked, looking over her shoulder with a dubious expression.

“Not by itself, no...at least I don’t think so. I’d say it gave me a boost and accelerated the healing process. By a lot.”

“You…” if she didn’t know better, Rayla would swear the human was trying to break her brain on purpose.

But before she could put her jumbled thoughts into words, a low growl erupted from Callum’s stomach.

"How long has it been since you've eaten?" Ezran asked/demanded.

"...Yesterday morning." Callum admitted reluctantly.

"Callum…" the younger prince sighed.

"Hey, it was a busy day." Callum huffed. He'd been running on nothing but adrenaline and/or magic for nearly thirty hours.

"There should be some supplies left at the camp." Rayla said. "It won't be much, but it's better than what we've got now. In the meantime," she reached into a small utility pouch that sat between her swords in their holsters and pulled out a small glass bottle full of red liquid, "you can have some of this."

Though he never believed them, Callum was instantly brought back to the stories he’d heard about elves being bloodthirsty in the most literal sense.

“What is it?” Ezran asked, looking equal parts skeptical and fascinated.

“Moonberry juice; best thing in the world if you find yourself skippin’ meals!”

Callum nodded and accepted the bottle. Moonberries were a prized cooking ingredient, so rare in the Penarchy that even kings and queens had difficulty getting more than a handful of them at a time.

‘If it’s poison, I should be able to burn it out of my system before it can do any lasting damage.’ he thought. He then popped off the cork and looked the elf dead in the eyes as he took a sip.

Rayla smirked when his eyes widened and he took another, much longer sip immediately after.

“Been drinkin’ it all my life and I still have that same reaction sometimes.” she said with no small amount of pride.

“My compliments to the chef.” Callum deadpanned, handing the bottle off to Ezran without really thinking about it.

“See, you’re tryin’ to be sarcastic, but I can tell you mean it, so thank you!” Rayla beamed, puffing out her chest even more.

“...Are you gonna preen like that every time I say something nice to you?”

“Considering what it takes to get you to say anythin’ nice? Maybe.”

Callum grunted in response, then did a double-take when he realized Ezran had drank from the bottle and had even given Bait a taste. 

But even the thought of saying something about it died instantly with the sound of a twig snapping somewhere in the underbrush.

They had stopped moving and were being too loud; two critical mistakes when passing through the wilder areas of the Penarchy.

“...I think that’s our cue to get back on track.” Callum muttered, realizing just how lucky they were to have gotten a warning.

* * *

Viren collapsed onto his chair with a heavy sigh and rubbed his tired eyes. He was no stranger to physical and mental exhaustion, but _emotional_ exhaustion was a whole different beast. One that he hadn’t encountered in twelve years.

Not since the days when having doctors and healers look at him with sad eyes and shake their heads was practically routine.

‘I found a way through that, and I will find a way through this as well.’ the high mage had no shortage of determination, but if this day, which was far from over, was anything to go by, the coming days would be a true test of willpower for everyone. “Thank heavens for Opeli…”

If you had told Viren just yesterday that he would one day say that, and mean it, he’d have stared at you blankly, wondering who lied and told you that you were funny. His relationship with her wasn’t exactly antagonistic, but they did NOT see eye-to-eye on...anything, really.

She was strict where he was flexible. He was pragmatic where she was empathetic. She was more about understanding the problem, where he was all about taking care of the problem. In theory, they should’ve worked well together as the king’s right and left hands. But whenever they were in the same room, it was inevitable that they would butt heads over _something_.

But now they found themselves falling into the dynamic they should’ve had all along, working together to serve the kingdom as best they could. Viren had wanted a call to arms and a summit with the other rulers of the Pentarchy. He wanted to move quickly and with purpose, and astoundingly Opeli hadn’t disagreed. Instead she’d pointed out that before they could coordinate any kind of offensive, they needed to coordinate their own kingdom. If Katolis fell apart, Xadia would win by default, war or no war.

She had also reminded him that no one had seen the heir to the throne since yesterday evening, including the soldiers who’d been assigned to escort the princes to the Banther Lodge. That was an incredibly troubling development, especially once Soren had informed him that just after the king breathed his last, the ribbons around each assassin’s right arm turned red and fell off.

It didn’t take a genius to figure things out from there. The bands on their left arms had to represent their second target, which hopefully meant as long as they remained pristine, the prince still lived. The one who would inherit the crown, anyway…

A knock at his door caused Viren to heave out another sigh.

“Enter.” he called out, hoping the clear annoyance in his tone would make whoever it was hurry up.

His eyes widened when Claudia opened the door and entered the office, then narrowed when he saw her distinctly un-Claudia-like demeanor. The girl never lacked for confidence, so seeing her so nervous and fidgety was a major red flag.

“Father…” Claudia greeted, but kept her eyes down and to her right.

“Is something wrong?” Viren frowned at his own question. ‘What _isn’t_ wrong right now?’

“I...I saw Callum and Ezran.” she said with clear reluctance.

“What?!” Viren shot out of his seat. “When? Where?”

“Last night...in the basement…”

“In the...Oh…” he didn’t recall tempting fate by saying things couldn’t get worse, but it looked like it was happening anyway.

“They weren’t alone…” Claudia swallowed the lump in her throat before continuing, “There was an elf. A Moonshadow, I think…”

“...Claudia? Why are you just now telling me this?”

“Because...Because they went with her!” Claudia sobbed as the dam started to break. “I tried to save them, tried to protect them, but they ran from ME! I saw it, father; Ezran looked at me, then looked at her and I _saw_ him make that choice.”

“...And what of Callum?” Viren asked gently, though he almost didn’t want to know.

“Him and the elf were pretty roughed up, so I think they were fighting before I found them, but...he went with her, too. He even took a _Fulminis_ spell for her…” Claudia finally met her father’s gaze with wide, bewildered eyes. “How did he do that? He just... _caught it_ , like it was nothing! How…?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about him.” Viren answered as he walked around his desk to embrace his daughter. “There’s a lot I don’t think anyone knows about him, myself included.”

“I’m sorry. I just...I was afraid of what might happen if I told anyone that Callum ran off with an elf.” Claudia admitted. “Ezran is at least protected because of his age and who he is. But Callum…”

“Is old enough to know better, and has no claim to the throne as long as Prince Ezran lives.” Viren finished, more thinking out loud than anything. It was very true that, if Callum had indeed joined up with one of the same elves who’d murdered the king, he could very well face charges of high treason that he wouldn’t be able to shake without an official pardon from _King_ Ezran.

But Viren wasn’t about to write the boy off just yet. Callum was smart, on a level that was legitimately scary at times. He wasn’t impulsive; if he really had gone with the elf of his own free will, there was a reason and a plan behind it.

Hopefully.

“Why did he do it?” Claudia mumbled into his chest.

“I won’t even pretend to understand what was on the prince’s mind, but I’m confident that what you saw wasn’t what it seemed to be. He’s got a plan. However...we can’t just sit on this information.”

“But-”

“Whether they left of their own will or not, the princes are still in the company of a Xadian assassin who could turn on them at any moment, if she hasn’t already. The longer it takes to find and recover them, the more their odds of survival dwindle.”

Before Claudia could say anything else, someone began pounding on Viren’s door.

“Lord Viren! Lord Viren!” a man hollered from outside while doing his damnedest to break the door down.

“What?!” Viren snarled as he ripped the door open to reveal a guard who looked like he probably could break down the door if he wanted to.

“Your presence is required in the courtyard, milord!” the guard bowed and moved to the side to allow the man through. “Urgently!”

“Claudia, my staff please.” Viren said, but didn’t wait for her to retrieve it before he was off, moving at an impressive pace for a man who normally walked with a limp.

Father and daughter arrived in the courtyard to see a group of guards gathered near the front gates, along with Opeli, who had her back to them and looked like she was going to throw up at any moment.

“What’s going on here?” Viren demanded as he walked up to them, though the effect was somewhat ruined by his panting.

“Lord Viren!” came a hysterical wail as the guards parted to reveal the pitiful shell of a man who Viren knew as the son of a High Councilman.

“Bartholomew...By the stars, what _happened_ to you?” now Viren knew why Opeli was audibly gagging behind him.

The man’s face was bruised and swollen almost beyond recognition, and the bandage over his right eye was so soaked with blood that there likely wasn’t an eye under it anymore. His bare torso was also caked in blood, all from what must have been _hundreds_ of shallow cuts. But the worst was his left arm, clearly broken and hanging limply at his side.

And completely stripped of skin from the bicep down.

“I m-met a d-demon. A creature with eyes th-that glowed like s-stars...” Bartholomew stammered, lone eye wide and bloodshot. “He t-told me to confess my s-sins and f-face my punishment…”

Viren had no idea what to say to that.

Fortunately a guard noticed his clear confusion and decided to explain. “Mordecai brought him in.”

“Ah.” Viren nodded, then looked around for the “demon”. “And where _is_ Mordecai?”

“Huh?” the guard blinked and looked around himself, prompting the other guards to do the same. “He...He’s gone...But how? When? I don’t…”

“Mm.” Viren grunted, having learned years ago that questioning Mordecai’s ways only led to headaches. “Bartholomew, what are these ‘sins’ you were told to confess?”

“I was p-party to a p-plot to kill the p-princes.” Bartholomew said, turning his eye to the ground and keeping it there. He flinched at the shocked gasps and furious growls that came from the guards around him. “My f-father...He heard that the k-king was sending his s-sons to the lodge...He p-passed it onto me, and I gathered s-some men t-to ambush them th-there…”

“For what? To start a new dynasty?”

“A new form of government entirely…” Bartholomew groaned, forcing himself not to reach for his destroyed arm.

“I see. And your plans for General Amaya?" Viren inquired. It was actually Opeli who'd reminded him, and the rest of the High Council, that as the sister of Queen Sarai, Amaya would be next in line if the princes couldn't be recovered.

"Father knew that the king sent for her to guard the princes until the castle was safe again...then return with them and possibly become Queen Regent until Prince Ezran was ready…When she arrived at the lodge, she would have met the same fate.”

“...We have a vacant throne and a war on our hands, and you would not only kill the heirs, but our greatest General as well?”

Bartholomew only whimpered in response.

“What of the other traitors?” a guard demanded, jabbing man’s side with the back end of his halberd.

“...Only I was shown mercy by the demon. Only I was offered the chance to repent…”

“Because only you could expose your father.” Viren scoffed, then turned to the guard closest to him. “Find Councilman Theodore. And be sure not to be _too_ rough in detaining him; we need him to talk.”

“Consider it done, Lord Viren.” the guard said with a bow, then rushed away with half a dozen others right behind him.

“As for you, Bartholomew...You’ve confessed your sins, all that’s left is to face your punishment.”

“What of the princes?” Opeli’s sudden demand caught Viren by surprise, as he didn’t notice her walk up beside him. “Your attempted coup clearly failed, but did you see any sign of them at all?”

“No. We arrived at the lodge just after sundown and waited, but no one ever came…”

“Damn!” Opeli hissed, earning a raised eyebrow from Viren, who’d never heard her curse.

“Hm, so much for running to familiar ground.” he muttered and started to walk away.

“Wait!” Bartholomew pleaded and used his good hand to pull a folded piece of paper from his right trouser pocket. He had no idea how close he came to being stabbed because of the sudden action, nor did he care. “The demon had a message for you, Lord Viren!”

Viren walked back and took the blood-stained letter, then nodded to the guards to take Bartholomew away. He put up no resistance, though his howling when someone touched his mangled arm was almost inhuman.

For a moment, the High Mage considered reading the letter in private, but reasoned that the delivery method wouldn’t have been so loud and public if the contents were truly for his eyes only. So he opened it then and there.

_“Lord Viren, I offer my deepest condolences for the loss of the king, and my deepest regrets for not being able to complete the final task he gave to me. I was to hand-deliver something of great importance to Prince Callum, but I could not find him or Prince Ezran in the castle._

_Thus I went to the lodge to wait for them, but my only company ended up being a pack of worthless rats. As you should know if you’re reading this, only one remains and he will tell you whatever you need to know._

_As for me, I have set off to find the princes myself. I am sorry, but I will not have my hands tied again. I will not fail him again. I give you my word that I will bring the princes home. Even if I find them cold and still, I will bring them home._

_May the heavens have mercy on those who try to stand in my way, for they will find none with me.”_

“...Opeli?” Viren said, knowing both she and Claudia were reading the letter over his shoulders.

“Yes?”

“Could you pen a letter to General Amaya and take it to the Crow Lord? And please, don’t tell her that her nephews are missing.”

“What? Why?! They’re the only family she has left; she has every right to know!”

“That she does, but I would much rather tell her in-person. She’s still two or three days out from the lodge, at least. If we tell her they’re missing, do you really think she’ll come all the way here? I find it much more likely that she will go her own way just like Mordecai. And unlike him, General Amaya has the authority to refuse orders and summons that don’t come directly from the king himself.”

“Very well, I suppose I’ll just ask for forgiveness later…” Opeli replied, then walked off with a small huff.

Viren felt like that was a jab at him, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t the first, it wouldn’t be the last.

“Dad, you have to let me go after them.” Claudia said once she realized they were now alone in the courtyard.

“Claudia, I don’t-”

“Me and Soren, just us.” she cut her father off and grabbed handfuls of his robe. “You saw what that ‘Mordecai’ does to traitors! He’ll skin Callum alive before he can even explain himself! You have to let us go!”

Viren’s first instinct was to tell his daughter that Mordecai would never do that to Callum, for any reason. But that was a bag of snakes he had no desire to open, nor was it his place to. So he found himself with no good reason not to let Claudia at least try to save her childhood friend.

“...Find Soren and bring him to my office. We’ll discuss it there.”

* * *

“Alright, we’re here.” Rayla said with a smile. “The camp is just through these tr...Oh, you have GOT to be kiddin’ me!”

The camp had been broken down as she’d expected, with everyone’s tents and supplies back in their own packs. But the packs themselves, instead of being disguised as logs and rocks, were torn open and their contents strewn about the clearing.

“Someone found the camp?” Ezran asked.

“I don’t think so.” Rayla replied with a frustrated sigh as she inspected the wreckage. “Looks like an animal got to it. Probably lookin’ for that food I mentioned...Sorry.”

“Anything we can still use?” Callum asked, clearly annoyed.

They spent the next few minutes finding the answer to that question, and soon had a small inventory set out before them. A _very_ small inventory.

“Some shredded cloth from the tents, two empty bottles, and one pack intact enough to still hold anythin’.” Rayla said.

“The bottles can be for water, we can put stuff in that pack to free up one of ours for the egg, and the cloth…” Callum picked up a strip and gave it a couple tugs to test its strength. “Yeah, we can make cordage out of this stuff. If I can find a nice sapling, I think I might be able make a bow to hunt with.”

He had never done it before, or even read about how it was done, but he felt he knew enough about how bows worked to make something that could take small game. Provided he could hit anything, of course.

“You can hunt?” Ezran asked incredulously.

“In theory.” Callum answered. “The king took me with him a couple of times when he went hunting and I paid attention.”

“ _Or_ ,” Rayla chimed in, “I could go out and find some fruits and berries. Y’know, things you don’t have to kill, skin and cook…”

Callum saw his brother grimace from the corner of his eye. Ezran understood that hunting was a fact of life, but it was always different for him because of his ability.

“Are elves vegetarians?” the young mage asked.

“Moonshadow elves are, in general. We do hunt, and I think few would deny that we’re the best at it, but what we take is used for trade more than anythin’.” there was a clear spark of pride in her eyes when she got the chance to talk about her home and people. “See, our territories have the richest huntin’ grounds in all of Xadia, and things we see everyday are considered rare commodities by others.

Sunfire elves, for example, love Burnox; they eat almost every part of it. But they’re super rare in their territories, so it’s way easier to get it from us. In exchange, they give us raw materials that are super rare in our territories, like the quicksilver that goes into our weapons.”

She had Callum’s full attention throughout her explanation. This was the first chance he’d had to actually indulge his fascination with all things Xadian, and just that small insight into the cultures of two elven races had so many questions swirling around in his head, he found it impossible to pick one to ask first.

“I wouldn’t mind some berries…” Ezran mumbled, obviously uncomfortable with all the hunting talk.

“I get it, Ez, but meat is the safer option right now.” Callum said. “Even if we could tell the poisonous berries from the safe ones, we don’t know what we might be allergic to.”

“...” Ezran had no counter to that, but it was obvious he still didn’t like it.

Rayla was borderline offended that the human would totally discount her skill and know-how in wilderness survival, but she had to admit he had a point. Beyond the obvious, like nightshade, she had no idea what would be toxic to humans. Nor did she know what would be fine for her as an elf, but dangerous to them as humans, or vice versa.

“...How about fish?” she suggested after taking a moment to mull it over. “Easier to find, easier to prepare, no stick-bows nece-!” her sales pitch was cut short when the sound of splintering trees assaulted her ears and the ground began to quake violently.

The color drained from Callum’s face when he realized they’d repeated their past mistakes. Whatever was stalking them had gotten within striking distance, and this time there was no warning.

The creature came charging into the campsite faster than anything its size should be capable of, giving Callum just barely enough time to grab Ezran and dive out of the way. But in doing so he not only left Bait behind; he made Ezran drop the egg as well.

The monster slammed its massive front paws into the ground and swung its entire body around in a full one-eighty, sliding backwards under its own momentum before its claws gained purchase. It hunkered down to charge again, but paused for a moment to look back and forth between Bait and the egg, possibly confused by the bright colors. Bait took advantage of that pause to blind the creature with the brightest flash of his life.

As the creature thrashed about violently, shrieking in pain, Callum was able to get a good look at it. It was gigantic, standing a good ten feet tall at the shoulders, probably weighing at least two tons, and looked like a horrific cross between a bear and a rhino. It was completely hairless, with thick hide arranged in segments that resembled plate armor. Its paws were bigger than a grown man’s torso and came equipped with claws that put any bear Callum had ever heard of to shame. But the head was it’s most terrifying feature, as it was twice as big as it should’ve been, and was dominated by a mouth that seemed to go all the way back to its neck and was lined with blade-like teeth.

‘Of all things, why did it have to be a Gumberoo?!’ screamed internally as he looked around for Rayla, eventually finding her perched in a nearby tree, looking just as bewildered and terrified as him and Ezran.

“Bait!” the rightful heir cried out, causing the glowtoad to run towards them. Unfortunately, whether from hearing the cry or following Bait, the Gumberoo did the same.

 _“Fulminis!”_ the young mage’s hand was a blur as he drew the rune and launched the spell, sending a bolt of lightning streaking over Bait’s head and into the monster’s face.

It tripped over its own paws and crashed to the ground with another pained howl.

Ezran scooped Bait up, and was in turn scooped up by Callum as he ran around the Gumberoo. But the creature recovered quickly and instinctively snapped at the movement it saw from the corner of its remaining eye.

Callum could _feel_ the air displaced by the creature’s jaws, and knew that if he’d been just a tick slower, he would’ve lost a leg.

“Keep runnin’!” Rayla ordered as she soared over his head and delivered a flying kick to the creature’s shoulder. She barely budged it, even though it was still off balance. In fact, the thing’s hide was so rubbery that most of the force went right back into her own leg..

“We can’t!” Callum yelled back. “These things don’t give up!”

“Then what?!” Rayla leapt back to avoid a claw swipe and cursed when the bear-thing kept coming at her, much faster than she anticipated.

Luckily another lightning bolt crashing into its side took its attention off her.

“Get Ezran and the egg out of here! I’ve got this!” Callum readied another _Fulminis_ and ran from his brother’s side, waving the spell around in the air to keep the Gumberoo’s attention on him.

As much as Ralya wanted to scream at him for being an idiot, the prince’s magic was the only thing that managed to hurt the thing thus far. Plus attacking it at a distance was a hell of a lot safer than getting within melee range, especially considering she had little faith her blades could get through its hide. So she put her faith in the human mage instead.

“Callum!” Ezran screamed as the elf carried him off, scooping up the giant egg in her free arm along the way. “What are you doing?! We can’t leave him!”

“We can’t help him, either!”

“We have to do _something_!”

“Like what?!”

Ezran went quiet at that. Whatever the thing was, he couldn’t pick up anything from it. No malice, no anger, no fear. Just _hunger_. It wasn’t defending its territory or protecting cubs; it was here to eat.

“...That makes two of us.” Rayla said when she got no response. “I don’t even know what that thing _is_ , let alone how to fight it. We're gonna have to trust your brother on this one.”

Once they were out of sight, Callum put his plan into action. It was going to take more power than he had ever used at one time, but it was the only thing he could think of that had a chance of working.

Four times the Gumberoo charged him, and four times it got zapped and missed its target. They weren’t very smart, but they were capable of learning and this one was starting to, hanging back and watching its prey instead of blindly charging a fifth time.

That was exactly what Callum wanted. While the Gumberoo roared and mock-charged in an effort to scare him into running, he drew another rune for one more shot. But instead of letting the spell take only what it needed, he kept the “valve” open so it could keep charging itself. This allowed for not only a more powerful initial strike, but a continuous stream of energy once the spell was unleashed.

 _“Fulminis!”_ to its credit, the Gumberoo tried to move out of the way, but it was far too slow and took the full force of the attack in the side.

The creature screeched and snarled, thrashing around as its instinct to feed fought with its instinct to flee. But after a solid five seconds of the magical onslaught, the smell of burnt flesh was starting to hang in the air as its skin began to sizzle. With one final, unimpressive roar, the Gumberoo’s tiny brain switched fully into self-preservation mode and it beat a hasty retreat through the forest, leaving a trail of environmental devastation in its wake.

As his heartbeat pounded in his ears, Callum could only hope he wasn’t sending it someone else’s way. He had no idea how long he stood there, watching the trees because he didn’t trust the universe to just let him have his victory. But the next thing he knew, a hand on his shoulder had him nearly jumping out of his skin.

“Ow!” Rayla yelped and immediately took her hand back.

“Dammit, Rayla!” Callum heaved with a hand on his chest. “What are you still doing here?”

“Thought I’d at least stay within rescuin’ distance.” the elf responded cheekily as she tried to shake the feeling back into her left hand.

“And then give me a heart attack?”

“Hey, I called your name four times; you just ignored me!”

“He gets like that when he’s super focused.” Ezran said, walking around a bush with the dragon egg in his arms.

“Why are you...Nevermind, change of plans. We’re going to the lodge.” Callum said firmly.

“What? Why?”

“Really? After what just happened, you’re _really_ gonna ask me why?”

“But-”

“ _No._ This is not up for debate. We’re not even a day into this and we’ve already been attacked by a fu...by a Gumberoo. It’s not gonna get any safer as we go, and I am NOT about to have you in the middle of that. We’re going to the lodge, waiting for someone to come looking for us, then YOU are going back to Katolis with them. End of discussion.”

“Uh, excuse me, what’s this ‘lodge’ you’re talkin’ about?” Rayla asked.

“The Banther Lodge; it’s where the king brought us for some ‘family time’ in the winter.”

“Oh, so a place that’s gonna be crawlin’ with humans, then. Yaaaaay...”

“It’s a _winter_ lodge. No winter, no people.”

“Except the ones we’d be waitin’ for.”

“It’s either that, or we find the nearest outpost and drop Ezran off there. Pick your poison.”

Rayla grumbled to herself, but when she looked at Ezran, she knew it needed to be done. The boy was a liability, plain and simple, and their odds were already bad enough; handicapping themselves further was just stupid.

“...Fine. Do you think you can find your lodge from here?”

“If we can get to the main river, sure.” Callum nodded. “So let’s get a move on before something else out here decides we look tasty.”

Ezran was a bit slow to move as they headed off and Callum knew exactly why. He had all but called his brother a burden and announced plans to offload him as soon as possible. No doubt that wasn’t sitting well and they needed to have a real conversation, but he knew Ezran would see it his way in the end. He was a very smart kid, and even more perceptive than Callum thought, so once he stopped pouting and actually thought about it, he’d understand.

‘I’m sorry, Ez, but this is how it has to be. I won’t let you get hurt. I won’t let you throw your life away. I won’t fail you.’

* * *

Opeli made her way to the Crow Lord with her finished letter in-hand. It had taken nearly two hours just for a few short paragraphs, but in her defense she wasn’t used to deceitful wording and lies of omission. She prided herself on her honesty and integrity, but she understood that sometimes compromises had to be made.

“Ah, Lady Opeli! What a pleasant surprise!” a familiar but unexpected voice greeted as she stepped into the Crow Lord’s chamber.

“Forgive me, Crow Master, but I am here on an urgent matter and have no time for pleasantries.” Opeli said. She knew from experience that she had to shut him down quick before he really got going with his flirting. He wasn’t aggressive, but he was persistent and seemed to get better at it every time she saw him.

To his credit, the black-haired man just smiled and nodded. “What can I do for you?”

“This letter must get to General Amaya.” Opeli said as she handed the letter over. “Not to the Breach, but directly to the General herself.”

“As you wish, Lady Opeli. Just give me a moment…” the young man got up from his chair and walked into the back room. He emerged a few seconds later with a crow on his shoulder, a single feather in his left hand and a small portrait of Amaya in his right. He then pulled out a single strand of his own hair, wrapped it around the feather and used a candle to set it alight. **_“Ezirp ym dnif ot seye ruoy em evig.”_**

His eyes gave off a purple glow as he recited the incantation, then turned black as two wisps of smoke entered both his mouth and the crow’s. He then stared at General Amaya’s portrait for a good half minute before looking up at Opeli with another fond smile.

"All set?" Opeli asked, forcing herself to maintain eye-contact.

"All set. Here's hoping the General isn't wearing a full helmet and hasn't changed her armor." the Crow Master chuckled. "Will there be anything else?"

"Not right now, but I have no doubt your services will be required again before the day is out."

"I am always at your service, Lady Opeli. And now that business has concluded...have you had lunch yet?"

There it was. "Warren…"

"...It’s the eyes, isn't it?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a little iffy about the final scene, but I wanted a bit of humor to break up all the doom and gloom. Also, the idea that the Crow Master is a low tier Dark Magic user came from both his outfit and me wanting to make messenger birds a bit more effective. Some messages are too important to rely solely on an animal's instincts and intelligence.
> 
> Crow Master's Spell: "Give me your eyes to find my prize". This is another original spell that forms a relatively weak link between two minds that allows the user to see through the eyes of another and designate a target for them to seek out. Here, the Crow Master studies Amaya's picture to plant a clear image of what to look for in the crow's mind. Once it sees something similar enough, the spell will trigger again, allowing the Crow Master to see through the bird's eyes and confirm the target.
> 
> Burnox: Original creature, basically a species of large bovine with a Sun Arcanum that sets itself on fire as a means of both defense and attack.
> 
> Gumberoo: A creature made up by American lumberjacks in the early 1900s to mess with immigrants and newbies. Said to be a bear-like monster that is always hungry, no matter how much it eats, and has a hide so tough that it's nearly invulnerable. Only fire can kill it.
> 
> I'm treating the Pentarchy as more or less North America, while Xadia represents Europe, so a lot of the magical creatures I use will be based on the appropriate folklore.
> 
> As always, any feedback will be much appreciated.
> 
> Be safe, everyone, and I will see you next time.


End file.
